THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
P.  Lennox  Tierney 


EXETER  HALL 


By  WM.  MCDONNELL,  Esq. 


is 


TENTH    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 
COLBY    AND    RICH,    PUBLISHERS, 

COB.  BOSWOBTH  AND  PROVINCE  STS. 

1885. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
THOMAS  BROWN, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District 

OK 


ps 


ADVERTISEMENT 

TO   SECOND   EDITION. 


ON  the  publication  of  the  first  edition  of  EXETER  HALL,  the  author  had 
some  grave  misgivings  as  to  the  success  of  the  work.  Not  that  he  was  influ 
ence^ —  considerable  as  his  outlay  had  been,  —  by  any  pecuniary  sentiment; 
for  the  book  was  written  without  the  slightest  reference  to  worldly  gain  of 
fame:  but  what  he  feared  was,  that,  through  the  opposition  of  the  churches 
and  certain  influential  portions  of  the  press,  he  should  be  prevented  from 
obtaining  a  general  and  candid  hearing.  This  opposition,  and  much  of  an 
acrimonious  private  character,  he  has  encountered,  and  overcome  through 
the  support  afforded  him  by  a  few  independent  journals,  and  the  countenance 
of  many  fearless  friends  and  readers.  Hence  the  appearance  of  the  present 
edition,  and  the  existence  of  the  lively  hope,  that  another  and  yet  another 
shall  give  further  evidence  of  the  liberal  tendencies  of  the  age,  and  the  growing 
desire  of  the  human  family  to  free  themselves  from  the  degrading  superstitions 
which  have  so  long  embarrassed  the  world,  retarded  the  progress  of  true  civili 
zation,  and  set  man  at  enmity  with  his  neighbor. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

LINDSAY,  Ontario,  Canada,  November,  1870. 


937-153 


EXETEE  HALL. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EXETER   HALL. 

EXETER  HALL  is  a  very  large  building  situ 
ated  near  the  Strand,  one  of  the  principal 
streets  of  London.  It  has  accommodation  for 
over  four  thousand  persons,  and  it  is  the  great 
Protestant  forum  and  centre  of  attraction  for 
all  those  who  anxiously  desire  the  spread  of 
the  Gospel,  the  dissemination  of  Christianity, 
and  the  evangelization  of  the  world.  It  is 
also  the  head-quarters  and  grand  rallying-point 
of  those  armies  of  prelates,  preachers,  pro 
fessors,  missionaries,  and  other  devoted  men 
who,  from  time  to  time,  assert  a  renunciation 
of  the  world,  its  pomps  and  vanities ;  many  of 
whom,  taking  their  lives  in  their  hand,  as 
eager  to  suffer  in  the  glorious  cause,  sever 
social  and  domestic  ties,  and  leave  home  and 
country,  to  spread  in  distant  lands  and  over 
the  dark  places  of  the  earth  "  the  unsearch 
able  riches  "  among  the  millions  yet  destitute, 
of  the  degraded  and  perishing  sons  and 
daughters  of  Adam. 

Exeter  Hall  has  a  fame.  Since  its  erection, 
about  1831,  no  other  place  in  the  world  has 
attracted  such  crowds  of  social  renovators, 
in  >ral  philosophers,  philanthropists,  and  Chris 
tians.  Of  late  years,  almost  every  great  mea 
sure  for  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of 
the  human  family  has  here  had  its  inception, 
its  progress,  and  its  triumph.  Surrounded  as 
it  is  by  theatres,  Shakespearean  temples  de 
voted  to  the  drama,  or,  as  many  of  the  reli 
gious  world  assert,  to  profane,  vicious,  and  un- 
g'"Uy  purposes,  Exeter  Hall  alone  has  the 
proud  distinction  of  being  the  great  theatre 
f  >r  the  concentration  of  Protestant  Christian- 
it  v.  From  this  great  stand-point,  the  wisdom, 
intelligence,  and  power  of  whole  nations  have 
been  brought  to  bear  against  usages,  systems, 
and  laws  antatronistic  to  the  pure  faitli ;  and 
a  remedy  suggested  and  provided  for  the 
moral  and  religious  destitution  of  the  world. 

But  not  altogether  are  measures  purely  re- 

!ligious  enacted  in  this  great  building.  Secu 
lar  schemes  of  practical  benevolence,  scarcely 
second  in  importance  to  any  other,  are  here 
developed ;  social  and  national  reforms  are 
here  patronized ;  music,  science,  philosophy, 
and  literature  are  encouraged ;  and  personal, 


national,  and  political  wrongs  feelingly  d» 
picted  ;  and  often  some  British  Demosthenes 
will  here  make  a  stirring  appeal  before  a 
thousand  freemen  in  behalf  of  an  oppressed 
people  or  down-trodden  country  ;  and  then 
there  is  a  shout  for  human  rights,  and  in  that 
shout,  as  is  always  the  case,  the  voice  of 
Exeter  Hall  is  heard  over  all  the  earth. 

But  it  is  in  the  genial  month  of  May  that 
this  great  theatre  displays  its  power,  and  ex 
ercises  its  wonted  energies.  Like  the  season, 
it  seems  invigorated  ;  there  is  an  infusion  of 
new  life  for  a  fresh  effort,  and  in  that  effort 
lie  the  germs  which,  having  been  generously 
moistened  by  national  dew-drops  of  a  peculiar 
kind,  are  sure  to  mature  into  a  bountiful  har 
vest.  In  May  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  flowing  01 
the  nations  of  the  world  toward  its  great  cap 
ital ;  and  at  that  particular  period  the  rusl. 
through  the  Strand  to  the  immense  Hall  w 
wonderful,  and  its  walls  resound  to  the  tramp 
of  people  of  every  clime  and  tongue.  Dele 
gates  and  representatives  from  almost  every 
nation  under  heaven  then  assemble  beneath 
its  roof.  The  language  of  every  capital  in 
Europe  is  here  spoken,  and  the  utterances  of 
far  distant  tribes  here  recognized.  The  once 
wild  natives  of  Asia,  Africa,  America  and  the 
South  Sea  Islands  here  meet  in  friendly  coun 
cil,  and  are  touched  and  softened  by  words  of 
welcome  in  their  native  tongue.  The  chil 
dren  of  the  world  meet  and  mingle,  and  lay 
down  their  offerings  in  a  common  cause,  and 
— glorious  result ! — mythical  ideas  of  origin 
and  superiority  are  then  forgotten,  and  nation 
ality,  the  great  idol  of  discord  is,  happily,  for 
the  time,  hurled  from  its  desecrated  pedestal, 
and  lies  neglected  or  trampled  in  the  dust. 

The  regular  anniversary  meetings  of  Exe 
ter  Hall  are  looked  forward  to  with  great 
interest  by  the  religious  world.  Protest  aiv.s 
of  all  denominations  hail  the  approach  of 
these  periods  with  the  most  agreeable  anticipft- 
tion.  A  spirit  of  emulation  is  engendered ; 
and  each  particular  church  or  society  makes 
a  strong  endeavor  to  win  pious  fame  on  the 
great  platform  where  the  representatives  of  so 
many  creeds  annually  fraternize,  and  who  on 
the  occasion  tacitly  cease  doctrinal  bickerings, 
in  order  to  exhibit  to  the  skeptic  and  scoffer 
an  exemplary  assiduity  in  the  common  cause. 
For  months  before  this  stated  period  the  moat 


EXETER    HALL. 


energetic  efforts  are  made  to  accumulate  a 
eum  sufficient  to  correspond  with  the  presum 
ed  wealth  and  influence  of  each  respective 
denomination.  In  this  connection  what  is 
called  a  "  laudable  rivalry"  is  encouraged, 
and  graduated  honors  are  in  due  time 
awarded  on  the  credit  side  of  the  published 
accounts.  There  are  some,  alas!  who  in 
religious  as  well  as  in  secular  affairs,  cling  to 
the  idea  that  the  most  money  ought  to  have 
the  most  merit,  and  persons  moat  liberal  in 
endowments  are  generally  awarded  the  high 
est  place. 

To  obtain  *e  large  an  amount  as  possible, 
the  most  thorough  and  ingenious  methods, 
have  been  devised.  Sunday-school  children 
are  lectured  to  importune  for  missionary 
pence,  and  to  reserve  their  own  petty  accu 
mulations  of  the  most  humble  produce  of 
the  mmr,  for  the  "  missionary  box ;"  and  sel 
dom  indeed  will  either  painted  toy  or  tempt 
ing  candy  induce  the  juvenile  collector  to 
withdraw  the  little  donation  from  its  place  of 
deposit.  The  money  is  looked  upon  as  be 
longing  to  the  treasury  of  the  Lord;  and  if 
the  infant  Protestant  mind  should  happen  to 
tolerate  a  little  superstition  in  this  respect,  no 
objection  has  yet  been  offered.  A  public  re 
cognition  of  such  services  by  children  is  high 
ly  satisfactory  to  religious  parents,  and  is  nat 
urally  found'  to  be  a  powerful  stimulus  to 
entice  and  actuate  younger  disciples. 

Then,  again,  there  are  "  Young  Men's  Asso 
ciations,"  and  therein  persons  are  appointed 
to  perambulate  certain  places  and  localities 
for  help  for  the  heathen — haunts  and  purlieus 
where  it  would  not  be  always  safe  and  never 
proper  for  respectable  religious  females  to  be 
seen. 

Thus  the  dissipated  and  abandoned  are 
often  besought,  and,  strange  to  say,  are  often 
donors  to  this  great  fund.  It  may  be  that  at 
stated  periods  many  recklessly  rushing  to  sin 
and  shame  feel  a  degree  of  satisfaction  in 
being  solicited,  as  if  the  solicitation  and  the 
gift  were  still  proofs,  though  ever  so  weak, 
that  the  poor  dissipated  wanderer  was  not  as 
yet  disowned  by  society,  or  considered  as 
hopelessly  sunk  among  the  outcast  and  de 
graded. 

Matrons  have  also  an  allotted  task.  Mature 
members  of  wealthy  mercantile  companies, 
ancient  annuitants,  gray-headed  state  pension 
ers,  and  musty  officials  are  sought  and 
softened  by  importunate  appeals  which  will 
take  no  denial ;  and  the  flinty  man,  wrapped 
up  in  freezing  dignity,  is  generally  unfolded, 
even  to  prove  to  himself  that,  mummy-like 
as  he  may  appear  to  others,  "  a  heart  still 
throbs  within  his  leathern  breast,"  and  that 
its  pulsations  are  yet  human. 

Stewards,  deacons,  lay-preachers,  and  min 
isters  have  a  peculiar  field  of  labor,  and  are 
often  more  successful  with  wealthy  or  well-to- 
do-widows,  and  comfortable  spinsters  of  an  un 
certain  age,  than  other  persons.  The  pleading, 
however,  of  ministers  with  all  classes  has  a 
drawing  effect ;  but  as  their  d  uties  are  too  mul 
tifarious,  their  visits  for  such  purposes  are  ne 
cessarily  circumscribed.  The  potency  of  a 
minister's  influence  is  more  particularly  in  a 
general  and  pathetic  appeal  to  a  congregation, 


or  in  private  whispers  at  the  bedside  of  the 
man  who  has  walked  the  earth  for  the  last 
time,  and  who,  previous  to  settling  his  last  ac 
count,  is  earnestly  reminded  of  his  final  and 
most  important  duty  of  "  honoring  the  Lord 
with  his  substance" — it  would  not  be  needed 
in  the  grave. 

But  by  far  the  most  invincible  and  success 
ful  collectors  are  the  young  and  beautiful  fe 
male  members  of  the  church.  Such  persons 
are  classified  as  the  "young  lady  collectors," 
and  they  prove  themselves  to  be  by  all  cdds 
the  most  daring  and  triumphant,  in  this  re 
spect  it  has  been  asserted  that  one  young  lady 
is  equal  to  thirteen  and  a  half  gentlemen ; 
and  pecuniary  results  have  justly  entitled  the 
adolescent  of  the  softer  sex  to  this  proportion 
ate  superiority.  In  collecting  tours,  the  young 
ladies  generally  go  in  pairs,  the  more  attract 
ive  and  accomplished  the  better.  As  the  duty 
is  readily  undertaken,  every  suitable  place  is 
visited  with  the  most  unflinching  determina 
tion.  Shopkeepers,  office-clerks,  young  busi 
ness-men,  and  men  of  fashion — the  grave  and 
the  gay,  the  great  and  the  humble,  and  a'l 
classes  within  reach  that  may  with  propriety 
be  called  on,  are  made  to  yield  to  solicitations 
which  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  are  irresistible  ; 
and  if  figures  are  facts,  the  returns  ever  prove 
that  young  lady  collectors  are  far  in  advance 
of  all  others  in  this  particular  line  of  pious 
usefulness.  The  rocky,  sordid  hearts  that  can 
not  be  softened  by  apostolic  prayers  or  sighs 
seem  to  melt  and  bubble  up  beneath  the  mis 
sionary  fervor  of  youth  and  beauty. 

Thus  it  is,  that  by  a  peculiar  and  systematic 
organization  almost  evory  individual  connect 
ed  with  a  church  or  religious  society,  from  the 
mere  child  to  the  man  or  woman  with  gray 
hairs,  may  be  made  an  active  agent  for  the 
collection  of  small  sums  for  missionary  or 
other  religious  purposes,  and  which  sums  in 
the  aggregate  annually  swell  to  an  immense 
amount ;  and  thus  it  is  that  without  ostenta- 
tation  or  an  apparent  effort  the  greater  por 
tion  of  the.  annual  princely  revenue  of  the 
British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  is  obtained 
from  the  people  by  a  mild  but  determined  en 
forcement  of  the  "voluntary  principle.'1 

The  orthodox  Englishman  is  proud  of 
Exeter  Hall.  In  the  rustic  church  or  great 
cathedral  he  had  heard  of  the  wonderful  suc 
cess  of  the  primitive  apostles,  and  had  been 
instructed  in  the  mystic  doctrines  of  Christian 
ity,  ami  told  of  its  superiority  over  more  an 
cient  Pa-jan  creeds.  While  the  Bible  had 
been  held  up  as  the  great  mirror  of  truth,  he 
had  been  cautioned  against  various  modern 
interpretations  of  the  "  unlearned,"  leading  to 
false  doctrine,  heresy,  and  schism  ;  and  in  the 
sanctuary,  while  often  bewildered  by  contra 
dictory  tenets,  or  led  into  a  maze  of  doubt  and 
theological  speculation  by  seeming  contradic 
tory  texts,  in  Exeter  Hall  he  seldom  or  never 
heard  a  conflicting  opinion.  In  this  place,  the 
history,  the  contests,  the  persecution,  and  the 
triumphs  of  Christianity  were  mapped  out  be 
fore  his  mind  in  interesting  recitals.  There 
he  had  heard  of  the  adventures  of  primitive 
Christians  in  their  endeavors  to  propagate  the 
"  truth  "  in  the  midst  of  powerful  and  impe 
rial  heathenism ;  and  had  been  told  how  au- 


EXETER    HALL. 


gust  potentates  became  enraged  at  the  pious 
innovation,  and  at  the  disrespect  shown  to  the 
gods  ;  how  the  great  Koman  empire  thunder 
ed  forth  its  denunciations  in  fierce  and  bloody 
persecutions  under  Nero,  Doinitian,  Trajan, 
Marcus  Aurelius,  and  others  clothed  with  the 
imperial  purple,  down  to  the  reputed  conver 
eion  of  <,  'onstantine.  Here  he  had  heard  of 
the  fierce  contests  between  the  rival  bishops 
of  the  Eastern  and  Western,  or  Greek  and  Ko 
man  Churches,  and  of  the  final  establishment 
of  the  "  man  of  sin  ;"  how  God's  so-called 
"vicegerent"  in  the  fullness  of  his  power 
crushed  with  unfeeling  heart  all  who  dared 
to  dispute  his  spiritual  dictation  ;  how  in  the 
pride  of  his  assumed  and  terrible  preeminence, 
the  simple  minded,  unoffending,  and  defense 
less  Waldenses  and  Albigenses  were  hunted 
like  wild  beasts  from  their  humble  homes,  and 
mutilated  and  slaughtered  by  the  bloody 
Montfort  ;  how,  more  than  a  century  later, 
the  valleys  of  Piedmont  were  again  deluged 
with  the  blood  of  these  poor  people  by  the 
brutal  Oppede.  It  was  in  this  place  that  his 
eyes  were  suffused  with  tears  when  m  connec 
tion  with  the  foregoing  narrations,  he  first 
heard,  amid  the  deep  silence  of  a  multitude, 
the  solemn  but  beautiful  verses  of  the  great 
Milton  : 

"Avenge,  O  Lord !  thy  slaughtered  saints  whose 

bones 

Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold. 
Even  them  who  kept  thy  faith  so  pure  of  old, 
When  all  our  fathers  worshiped  stocks  and  stones, 
Forget  not ;  in  thy  book  record  their  groans 
Who  were  thy  sheep  and  in  their  ancient  fold 
Slain  by  the  bloody  Piedmontese  that  rolled 
Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.    Their  moans 
The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hiils,  and  they 
To  Heaven.    Their  martyred  blood  and  ashes  sow 
O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 
The  tripled  tyrant ;  that  from  these  may  grow 
A  hundred-fold,  who  having  learned  thy  way 
Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe." 

Then  when  some  fervid  speaker,  after  having 
recited  these  verses,  would  close  his  remarks 
with  an  indignant  denunciation  of  such  cruel 
ty,  the  pent-up  feeling  of  the  multitude 
would  become  liberated  and  significantly 
audible. 

In  Exeter  Hall  the  Englishman  had  heard 
of  the  Inquisition ;  of  its  depths,  its  dun 
geons,  its  terrors,  its  cruelties,  and  its  victims. 
Here,  ton,  he  had  heard  of  the  great  massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  had  warnings,  time 
after  time,  against  the  treachery  and  intrigue 
and  cruelty  of  Papal  Koine.  Here  he  was 
told  of  the  struggles  of  the  Reformation,  and 
of  its  heroes,  princely  and  reverend,  who 
stood  out  against  the  imperious  mandates  of 
the  great  ecclesiastical  tyrant ;  and  as  fact 
after  fact  was  adduced  to  prove  that  that 
great  convulsion,  the  violent  upheaving  of 
an  ancient  despotism,  was  designed  by  Provi 
dence  for  the  freedom  of  the  human  mind, 
he  felt  that  Britain — his  own  loved  land — had 
acted  no  secondary  part  in  reducing  and 
humbling  the  towering  pretensions  of  so  ter 
rible  an  enemy. 

Many  other  religious  historical  facts  were 
there  brought  to  his  notice ;  and  although 
the  subsequent  acts  of  many  of  the  Protest 
ant  reformers  were,  alas !  of  a  fearful  and 
diabolical  character,  no  mention  was  ever 
made  of  that  iniquity,  nor  of  the  unholy 


secrets  of  that  more  modern  inquisition — the 
Protestant  Star  Chamber.  A  blush  of  shame 
was  spared,  and  the  fraternal  partiality  of 
Exeter  Hall  very  wisely  and  prudently  threw 
the  mantle  of  oblivion  over  all. 

These  tracings  of  a  particular  history,  first 
permanently  impressed  on  his  memory  in  such 
a  place,  and  under  peculiar  existing  circum 
stances,  associated  with  the  warm  applause 
awarded,  to  strong  and  passionate  assertions 
in  favor  of  freedom  of  speech,  liberty  of  con 
science,  liberty  of  the  press,  and  of  liberty 
itself,  and  all  identifying  his  native  country 
as  the  progenitor  of  such  ideas,  may  well  lead 
the  impulsive  Englishman  to  revere  forever 
the  name  of  Exeter  Hall. 

Thus  it  is  that  at  the  immense  meetings  of 
this  distinguished  forum,  that  monster  organ 
ization,  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Soci 
ety,  the  great  evangelical  giant  of  Christen 
dom  is  again  nourished  and  recuperated  ;  and 
thus  its  prodigious  arms  are  again  strength 
ened  and  stretched  out,  overshadowing  deserts, 
oceans,  islands,  and  continents,  and  only  meet 
ing  to  inclose  within  its  vast  embrace  the 
whole  unconverted  world. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  wild  March  winds  had  passed  away, 
having  spent  their  fury  over  distant  moor, 
bleak  heath,  and  through  trembling,  naked 
trees.  Broken,  pendent  branches,  and  piles  of 
drifted,  withered  leaves  in  wall  angles  and 
hedge  corners  were  remaining  proofs  of  the 
rough  season  that  had  followed  in  the  dreary 
track  of  ten  thousand  others  of  the  same  kind. 
The  distant  ocean  was  again  calm,  albeit  that 
there  might  still  remain  on  its  grand  surface 
terrible  mementoes  of  some  feari'ul  struggle 
between  the  daring  skill  of  impetuous  man 
and  the  s  ill  more  wild  and  impetuous  waves, 
now  again  wearied  and  slumbering  in  the  still 
ness  of  immensity.  The  earth,  too,  was  calm 
and  beautiful.  The  glorious  day-dawn  that 
was  dreamingly  stealing  from  out  of  the  night- 
shadow  looked  like  the  timid  virgin  lulu  of 
a  new  planetary  creation.  A  sun-gleam  tipped 
the  distant  tree-tops,  now  gently  stirred  by  the 
first  breath  of  a  new  morn  ;  the  lark  in  heav 
en  and  the  song  of  the  rushing  stream  on 
earth,  were  to  the  pausing  and  wondering 
wayfaring  man  like  whispers  from  a  lon^-lost 
paradise. 

As  it  was,  Hampstead  never  looked  more 
like  the  original  garden  said  to  have  been  so 
pleasing  and  delightful  to  our  great  progeni 
tor.  Every  cottage  seemed  imbedded  in  sur 
roundings  of  quiet  loveliness,  as  its  outline 
became  more  fully  developed  in  the  new 
dawn  ;  and  every  object,  hill  and  vale,  tower 
and  tree,  rock  and  river,  was  adorned  in  the 
soft,  rosy  light  of  the  young  day. 

On  a  gentle  slope,  facing  the  great,  dim  me 
tropolis  beneath,  stood  Heath  Cottage,  an 
unobtrusive  object  in  the  picture.  It  \vai 
in  the  middle  of  a  pleasant  garden,  around 
the  walls  of  which  were  a  number  of  fine  old 
trees  that,  sentinel-like,  had  stood  the  blast 


6 


EXETER     HALL. 


of  over  a  hundred  winters.  The  house  was  a 
modern  structure  ;  there  was  nothing  stylish 
in  its  architecture ;  it  was  a  plainly  built,  com 
fortable  English  homestead,  and  sufficiently 
capacious  for  a  family  much  larger  than 
that  which  had  occupied  it  for  many  years. 
There  were  shade  trees  and  neat  hedges  by 
the  roadside,  and  in  front  there  were  smiling 
flower-beds  in  which  the  crocus,  hyacinth,  and 
tulip  were  already  conspicuous.  Shrubs  and 
plants  and  rose-trees  were  in  profusion,  and 
curious  little  winding  walks,  with  trim  box 
wood  borders,  invited  you  pleasingly  onward 
to  a  sun-dial,  close  to  which  there  was  a  mini 
ature  fountain  tossing  up  its  little  jet  of 
spray  to  welcome  the  sunbeams,  and  moisten 
ing  the  moss-covered  rock-work  ris-ing  out  of 
the  graveled  space  before  tae  door-steps. 

Ascending  these  steps  the  entrance  was  be 
sieged  by  flower  pots  of  various  shapes  and 
sizes ;  some  perched  on  rustic  stands,  and  look 
ing  as  if  determined  to  pop  in  from  the  eleva 
tion  through  the  side  lights,  and  storm  the 
chattering  and  defiant  bird  cages  which  flank 
ed  the  sun-lit  passage.  Ambitious  young 
vines  were  curiously  peering  through  the 
'.ntricate  traceries  around  the  bay  windows  at 
each  side  of  the  door,  and  pendent  stems  of 
ivy  alternately  tapped  at  the  dormer  panes  that 
looked  out  from  the  steep  roof. 

As  you  entered  Heath  Cottage,  the  hall  was 
ornamented,  embellished,  or  incumbered  with 
quaint  and  incongruous  articles.  Besides  cages 
;'ud  canaries,  there  were  pictures  of  London 
in  the  olden  time,  engravirfgs  of  the  flags 
and  gods  of  all  nations ;  the  scene  of  an 
"  Auto  da  fe ;"  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Barthol 
omew  ;  of  a  persecution  of  Jews  by  Chris 
tians,  and  of  Quakers  by  Puritans ;  there 
were  pieces  of  armor,  war  clubs  from  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  a  boomerang  from  Austra 
lia,  an  idol  from  Japan,  relics  from  the  wreck 
of  the  Armada,  and  a  few  of  the  smaller  instru 
ments  of  torture  from  the  British  Star  Cham 
ber  and  Spanish  Inquisition.  Many  of  these 
strange  things  were  suggestive  of  ideas  not 
at  all  pleasing  or  honorable  to  humanity,  nor 
creditable  to  the  religious  toleration  of  a  for 
mer  period  ;  and  here  now  were  hung,  as 
mere  curiosities,  some  of  those  terrible  aids  to 
faith  which  could  afford  to  the  student  posi 
tive  illustrations  of  historic  truth.  There 
were  also  a  few  specimens  of  mechanical  or 
engineering  skill,  such  as  the  models  of  a 
ship,  a  bridge — the  whole  giving  the  place 
A  museum-lMce  appearance. 

The  first  door  to  the  right  led  to  a  neat,  well- 
furnished  parlor ;  not  one  of  the  stately  freez 
ing  looking  places  where  chairs  and  tables 
and  mirrors  and  marble  are  muffled  up  in 
musty  dignity,  only  to  be  exposed  and  made 
cheerful  looking  on  great  occasions.  It  was 
an  apartment  for  home  use,  and  not  alone  for 
the  reception  of  occasional  visitors.  There 
wa-»  no  pretense  about  the  place  ;  it  was  what 
it  looked — a  cottage  parlor,  and  every  tiling 
in  it  was  made  subservient  to  the  happiness 
of  home.  As  a  proof  of  this,  many  pass 
ing  Heath  Cottage  might  be  seen  treading 
with  slower  pace  in  order  to  hear  the  fine 
tones  of  the  piano  skillfully  brought  out ;  or 
oftener  delayed  to  listen  to  soft  voices  mingled 


in  some  beautiful  duo,  and  accompanied  by 
that  instrument.  Indeed,  many  ardent  lovert 
of  music  had  been  heard  to  remark  that  it 
was  difficult  at  times  to  keep  from  loitering 
near  the  cottage,  or  to  pass  it 'by  and  leave  so 
much  liarmony  behind  you.  Opposite  the 
parlor  was  a  large  apartment  called  the 
family  room,  from  which  you  entered  a  small 
but  well  stocked  library,  connected  with 
which  was  a  little  room  that  looked  out  on  a 
patch  of  garden,  and  was  well  adapted  for 
writing  or  quiet  study. 

Behind  the  dwelling,  there  was  a  small 
orchard  and  a  summer-house  covered  with 
grape  vines  ;  and  a  space  of  greensward  for 
play -ground,  along  which  you  passed  to  the 
sheds  and  stable.  Taking  it  all  in  all,  Heath 
Cottage  was  just  such  a  place  as  a  person  with 
moderate  means  and  limited  desires  might 
find  to  be  a  pleasant  retreat  from  ambitious 
cares  or  the  envy  of  the  aspiring.  Such  it 
had  been  for  many  years  to  its  proprietor, 
Martin  Mannors,  who  now,  on  this  fair,  first 
morning  of  April,  was  looking  down  with 
beaming  face  from  one  of  the  dormer  windows 
into  the  garden. 

"  What !  Merry  Pop,  down  before  me  ?  Oh  1 
I  see ;  you  were  determined  to  win,  and  I 
suppose  you  got  up  before  day." 

"  Indeed  I  did  not,  Pa ;  I  bet  that  I  would 
be  down  before  you  on  the  first  of  April,  and 
here  I  am,  ready  for  the  wager." 

"  Well,  here  it  is,"  and  out  flew  a  pair  of 
lavender  gloves  from  the  window,  falling  at 
the  feet  of  Mary  Mannors. 

"Down,  Flounce,  down,  sir!"  but  Flounce 
would  not  stay.  Away  he  gamboled  with 
the  gloves  in  his  mouth,  over  flower-beds  and 
bushes,  until  met  at  a  corner  by  a  delicate 
looking  boy,  Mary's  brother,  who  grasped 
Flounce  by  the  neck  and  rescued  tha 
gloves. 

"  Pop,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  "  Flounce  knowi 
this  is  the  first  of  April,  and  wants  to  make 
an  April  fool  of  you." 

"  Pa,  indeed  you  have  pampered  that  saucy 
dog  too  much ;  but  neither  he  nor  you  shall 
make  a  fool  of  me  to-day,"  replied  the  ex 
cited  girl,  looking  up  at  the  window  through 
her  beautiful  brown,  shining  curls. 

"  Oh !  of  course  not.  You're  too  wise,  Pop, 
to  be  caught  with  chaff— not  you."  Mr. 
Mannors  then,  apparently  surprised,  looked  for 
a  moment  at  some  object  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  hastily  cried,  "  Look,  Will,  look,  Mary! 
That  surely  is  the  identical  April  fool,  if  there 
ever  was  one,  standing  at  the  garden  gate. 
Mary  and  her  brother  looked  at  once  in  thai 
direction,  but  as  the  intervening  trees  prevent 
ed  any  object  from  being  clearly  seen,  away 
Mary  started,  followed  by  her  brother ;  there 
was  a  race  for  the  gate,  then  there  was  a  dead 
halt,  then  a  pause  of  doubt,  and  then  a  shout 
of  laughter  from  Mr.  Mannors  ;  for  instead  of 
there  being  but  one  April  fool  at  the  gate  there 
were  actually  two. 

"  Well,  Martin,"  pettishly  observed  Mrs. 
Mannors,  who  had  by  this  time  got  to  the  win- 
dow,  "  how  silly  1  What  an  example  of  decep 
tion  to  show  the  children!  What  value  can 
they  place  on  your  word  ?  You  should  be  the 
very  last  to  deceive  them  with  such  an  old 


EXETER     HALL. 


wife's  fablo,  or  encourage  them  to  think  of  such 
stupid  nonsense." 

"  Nonsense,  did  you  say,  Emma?  Well,  if 
every  fable  that  is  taught  for  truth  in  this  wise 
and  sanctimonious  age,  and  believed  in  by  old 
er  children,  were  as  harmless,  there  would  be 
far  more  peace  and  good-will  among  men 
and  women  too — ay,  far  more  happiness.  But 
1  must  g.)  down  to  the  garden.  You  may  tell 
them  to  try  and  be  serious.  I  will  bid  them 
laugh  and  enjoy  their  cheerful  impulses;  I 
know  which  will  make  them  most  happy  in 
tin;  long  run,  at  least  in  this  world." 

In  another  minute  Martin  Mannors  stood 
close  to  the  little  fountain;  his  cheery  voice 
rang  through  the  garden  like  music,  and 
again  he  laughed  aloud  at  the  ruse  he  had  so 
successfully  practiced.  Mary  and  her  brother 
had  returned,  and  once  more  the  laugh  was 
general.  Flounce,  too,  was  springing  about, 
giving  repeated  barks  of  approbation  as  if  he 
knew  all  about  it,  and  was  delighted  at  the 
performance. 

There  was  no  doubt  as  to  the  heartfelt  plea 
sure  of  the  whole  party,  and  he  must  have 
been  a  cynic  indeed  who  could  have  looked 
upon  the  happy  faces  of  that  group  and  assert 
that  the  cause  of  so  much  pleasure  was  a  sin. 

Even  Mrs.  Mannors,  who  now  witnessed  their 
joyful  meeting,  and  who  had  but  just  lectured 
her  husband  upon  his  indiscretion,  felt  the 
influence  of  their  cheerful  emotions ;  and,  to 
appear  consistent,  she  had  to  turn  away  quick 
ly  from  the  window  to  hide  from  father  and 
chidren  the  smile  that  was  then  shining  on 
her  own  face. 

Martin  Mannors,  the  proprietor  of  Heath 
Cottage,  was  just  past  the  middle  age  of  life, 
but  healthy,  hearty,  and  joyous.  His  actual 
years  might  number  fifty-seven,  yet  at  first 
view  he  looked  scarcely  beyond  forty.  He 
was  of  medium  height,  squarely  built,  vigor 
ous,  and  active  ;  he  had  a  mild  gray  eye,  and 
a  most  benevolent  expression  of  countenance. 
"  Time  had  not  thinned  his  flowing  hair," 
neither  had  it  as  yet  scarcely  altered  its  color. 
A  few  white  hairs,  like  intruders,  might  have 
been  discovered  screening  themselves  among 
his  brown  locks  ;  but  only  a  few,  the  scantiest 
number  of  the  harbingers  of  the  still  far-off 
winter.  He  wore  a  manly  beard,  as  nature 
intended  ;  and  if  he  had  reached  the  summit 
of  life's  hill,  he  now  trod  the  declining  way 
as  cheerfully  and  contentedly  as  he  had  made 
the  ascent. 

He  was  a  person  not  easily  disconcerted  or 
annoyed  about  any  thing.  If  an  evil  befell 
him,  his  philosophy  came  to  the  rescue,  and  he 
would  say,  "  It  might  have  been  worse."  Al 
though  comparatively  indifferent  about  him 
self,  he  felt  most  acutely  for  the  wants  or 
afflictions  of  others ;  these,  he  would  say.  were 
the  particular  thorns  that  made  his  life  most 
unhappy ;  and  he  always  asserted  that  poverty 
in  the  abstract  was  the  curtain  result  of  social 
inj  ustice ;  and  that  crime,  to  a  great  extent, 
was  the  consequence.  He  was  fortunate,  how 
ever,  in  being  placed  beyond  the  contingencies 
of  want;  as  the  recipient  of  a  liberal  annuity, 
he  was  possessed  of  sufficient  means  to  secure, 
for  himself  and  those  depending  on  him  a 
great  share  of  the  good  things  of  this  life ; 


besides,  he  had  a  vested  interest  in  Heath  Cot 
tage,  and  being  a  person  careful  and  prudent 
in  every  expenditure,  he  was  not  at  all  likely 
to  suffer  from  pecuniary  difficulties.  Having 
had  the  benefit  of  a  good  education,  he  was 
still  more  fortunate,  lie  was  a  great  reader, 
and  devoured  the  contents  of  books  on  almost 
every  ordinary  subject  with  the  greatest  avid 
ity.  For  him  one  side  of  a  question  was 
never  sufficient ;  each  proposition  or  idea  was 
mentally  handled  and  scrutinized,  and  viewed 
at  every  point  before  he  came  to  a  decision  ; 
and  every  assertion,  or  opinion,  or  theory,  or 
doctrine,  no  matter  how  trivial  or  profound, 
how  new  or  how  old,  how  popular  or  con 
demned,  had  to  undergo  its  ordeal  of  investi 
gation  in  his  mind  before  he  either  accepted 
or  rejected  it  as  truth  or  error.  For  truth  he 
seemed  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice ;  and 
the  boldness  of  his  statements  relative  to 
many  of  our  most  venerable  and  cherished 
ideas  often  startled  the  timid  doubter,  and 
many  times  engendered  in  the  minds  of  some 
stiff-necked  worshippers  of  traditionary  or 
hereditary  opinions  a  feeling  of  haughty 
scorn  or  of  actual  enmity. 

Apart  from  more  abstruse  subjects  he  had 
a  fine  appreciation  of  music,  painting,  and 
poetry  ;  in  fact,  he  readily  cultivated  every 
thing  most  refined  and  intellectual  in  art  or 
science,  and  his  judgment  in  these  matters 
was  considered  sound  and  conclusive.  Such 
was  Martin  Mannors  ;  kind,  humane,  and  just ; 
a  man  of  comprehensive  mind  and  boldness  of 
thought ;  one  who  never  sought  to  obtrude 
his  opinions  rudely,  but  who,  sin^y  and  alone, 
was  ever  ready  to  defend  them  before  a  thou 
sand  opponents.  Far  and  around  he  \vaa 
known  and  respected  ;  he  was  regarded  by  the 
poor  and  unfortunate  as  a  true,  sympathizing 
friend,  and  his  name  was  a  passport  to  the 
hearts  of  toiling  men.  But  though  he  was 
idolized  at  home,  and  loved  by  many,  being 
intellectually  in  advance,  and  a  "  skeptic  '  in 
theology,  as  a  consequence,  he  too  had  ma- 
ligners  and  enemies. 

Mrs.  Mannors  was,  in  many  respects,  as  un 
like  her  husband  as  it  was  possible  to  ima 
gine.  She  was  comely  in  person  and  kind  in 
disposition.  She  loved  her  husband  and  chil 
dren  and  home ;  and  she  had  the  reputation 
of  bein^  generous  to  the  deserving,  and  chari 
table  to  the  poor,  and  was  justly  regarded  as 
a  very  exemplary  person  in  most  things. 
But  intellectually  sh-  fell  far  behind  ;  it  was  a 
trouble  for  her  to  think.  Ready-made  ideas, 
particu'arly  if  the  emanations  of  some  reve 
rend  Spurgeon  or  popular  Boanerges  of  the 
church  militant,  were  by  her  readily  adopted 
and  held  sacred.  She  had  a  religious  mania; 
and  the  sanctuary  was  her  gate  to  heaven, 
and  the  home  of  her  strongest  affections. 
Reason,  she  asserted,  had  particular  and  cir 
cumscribed  limits,  and  faith  was  the  great 
point  upon  which  her  fondest  hopes  /centred 
and  turned. 

From  her  earlier  years  .she  had  been  train 
ed  to  regard  the  world  as  a  vale  of  tears,  and 
to  consider  earthly  things  as  of  little  con 
sequence,  and  every  moment  of  time  spent 
on  earth  as  scarcely  sufficient  to  secure  the 
promised  enjoyments  of  E  future  state.  Peri- 


EXETER    HALL. 


odically,  however,  she  was  a  busy  bustling 
woman  iu  ordinary  affairs,  but  generally  an 
enthusiast  in  religion ;  so  mucli  so,  that  she 
very  otten  seemed  to  forget  or  ueglect  some 
of  the  duties  of  life,  and  to  resign  many  of 
the  pleasures  of  earth  for  the  purpose  of  se 
curing  the  inconceivable  happiness  of  hea 
ven. 

To  this  end  she  became  a  strict  Methodist ; 
she  joined  the  church,  attended  class-meet- 
i  tgs ;  she  would  quote  and  lecture  aud  pray 
l:i  church  and  at  home,  in  season  and  out  of 
K-^ason,  and  found  frequent  opportunities  to 
beseech  some  ungodly  friend  or  acquaintance 
"  to  tiee  from  the  wrath  to  come."  She  was  a 
collector  of  funds  for  churches,  missionaries, 
]iiblc-s,  tracts,  and  tea-meetings;  and  next  to 
herself  she  considered  her  husband  as  the 
"chief  of  sinners,"  and  running  blindly  to  his 
own  destruction.  She  had  cautioned  and  ad 
monished  him  time  after  time,  but,  alas  !  so 
far  without  effect ;  he  could  not  perceive  his 


only  his  companion  but  his  preceptress ;  and 
under  her  tender  tuition  he  often  made  greater 
progress  than  by  the  direction  of  the  best  mas 
ter.  His  father  was  most  incl ulgent ;  and  when 
the  spring  days  grew  warm  ami  fine,  he  and 
Mary  and  William,  and  always,  Flounce  would 
ramble  for  miles  away  ov«  r  sunny  hills  and 
through  green  meadows ;  and,  when  tired, 
would  sit  by  some  clear  stream  to  hear  its 
murmurs  as  it  wandered  along  on  its  way 
through  shadow  and  sunshine.  Ah  me !  these 
were  pleasant  rambles,  pleasant  to  be  remem 
bered  in  long,  long  after  years,  and  to  be 
hung  like  some  fair  picture  in  the  memory. 

As  for  Mr.  Mannors,  he  had  not  for  many 
years  attended  a  place  of  worship.  He  had 
made  a  study  of  theology  ;  and,  having  pierced 
its  very  depths,  seemed  to  have  discovered 
something  unsightly  and  then  to  have  reject 
ed  its  principles  forever.  Mrs.  Mannors  there 
fore  felt  it  the  greater  necessity  to  be  punctual 
herself,  and  a  stronger  adherent  to  the  faith  ; 


danger  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  told  her  he  was  but  it  was  not  always  that  she  could  secure 
happy  enough,  he  knew  nothing  of  the  sin-  j  the  attendance  of  her  children.  Mary,  as  if 
fulness  of  sin,  and  often  after  she  had  dis-  by  intuition,  seemed  able  to  comprehend  the 
coursed  to  him  in  her  must  serious  and  tear-  motive  which  too  often  actuated  others.  In 
ful  m  ,od,  he  would  laugh  at  the  terrors  *iiich  !  her  own  quiet  way  she  was  a  close  observer, 


she  had  portrayed  for  his  edification. 

Asa  matter  of  duty  she  tried  to  impress  on 
the  minds  of  her  children  the  value  of  relig 
ion  and  the  worthlessness  of  the  world.  Be 
sides  leading  them  to  the  sanctuary,  she  had 
their  memory  crowded  with  catechetical  ques 
tions  and  answers,  and  with  a  multitude  of 


and  she  used  to  remark  that  a  hundred  at 
tended  church  as  a  fashionable  pastime  for 
every  one  that  went  to  pray.  She,  like  her 
father,  did  not  object  to  have  her  acts  and  mo 
tives  fully  understood.  She  did  not  care  to  be 
the  slave  of  a  popular  mania,  or  to  follow  in 
the  footsteps  of  a  gayly  dressed  hypocritical 


texts  and  pious  verses.  She  had  done  her  j  multitude  as  a  matter  of  policy ;  neither  did 
duty  in  this  respect,  and  there  was  no  inter-  she  heed  the  censure  of  the  self-righteous  or 
ferenee  on  the  part  of  her  husband  ;  but,  alas !  the  uncharitable  insinuations  of  church-going 


all  her  well  meant  efforts  were  undesignedly 
counteracted. 

Mary  Mannors,  now  in  her  seventeenth  year, 
was,  like  her  father,  naturally  hopeful  and  joy 
ous.  She  was  of  medium  size,  and  had  beau 
tiful  brown  hair  that  hung  in  tresses  around 


adherents.  When  she  bowed  her  head,  it  was 
Iromthe  impulse  of  the  heart ;  and  often  when 
she  had  been  obliged  to  conform  to  the  pre 
vailing  mode  of  frivolous  worship,  reason 
gave  its  silent  rebuke,  and  then  she  would 
wish  to  be  with  loved  ones  at  home ;  or  away, 


her  graceful  neck.  Her  eye  was  a  clear  mild  j  wandering  through  green  lanes  or  on  plea- 
blue,  and  her  face  singularly  pleasing  and  at-  sant  mossy  banks,  or  by  some  gentle  stream, 
tractive.  Her  education  had  ffot  been  neglect-  |  clear  and  pure  as  her  own  thoughts, 
ed,  and  her  mind  was  stored  with  a  fair  share  j  On  bright  Sabbath  mornings,  if  William 
of  general  knowledge.  She  had  a  fine  voice,  pleaded  indisposition,  another  ramble  was 
and  coujd  sing  and  play  with  the  most  ex-  sure  to  be  the  remedy ;  this  was  always  sug- 
quisite  taste  and  feeling.  Her  manner  was  gested  in  preference  to  a  driver-confinement 
quite  unaffected;  and  now,  as  she  was  just  in  church  being  urged  as  injurious — and 
budding  into  womanhood,  her  maidenly  at-  there  surely  could  be  no  impropriety  in  steal- 
tractions  were  increased  by  a  most  affectionate  ing  quietly  away  to  the  pure  air  on  the  hills. 
and  confiding  disposition,  and  she  looked  and  j  On  such  occasions  it  was  useless  for  poor  Mrs. 
(Spoke  and  acted  with  an  honest  boldness  that  Mannors  to  oppose.  She  might  an'd  she  did  of- 
ujade  her  almost  irresistible.  She  was  an  es-  ten  murmur  her  disapprobation  that  the  Sab- 
pecial  favorite  with  her  father,  and  was  like  bath  services  should  be  neglected ;  but  her 
him  in  thought  and  disposition,  and  she  con-  kind  motherly  feelings  could  relax  religious 
Bidered  him  unequaled.  Her  brother  \Vil-  discipline,  and  many  times  as  she  gave  her  re- 
liam,  her  junior  by  about  four  years,  was  con-  luctaut  consent,  she  would  wistfully  follow 
etitutionally  delicate.  He  was  a  slight,  frail  them  with  her  eyes,  as  hand  in  hand  they 


boy,  with  a  feminine  cast  of  countenance. 
His  face  was  handsome,  yet  without  the  force 
of  expression,  which  made  the  contrast  be 


took  their  departure. 

Mrs.  Mannors  had,  however,  one  great  com- 
fort  in  the  religious  companionship  of  an  old 


tween  him  and  his  sister  so  great.  In  man- ;  and  faithful  maid  servant  named  Hannah ;  a 
per  he  was  mild  and  affectionate,  and  was  the  creature  simple  minded,  guileless,  and  confid- 
idol  of  his  mother, ^who  evinced  the  greatest  '•  ing.  Hannah  had  read  and  re-read  the  Bible, 
anxiety  on  account  of  his  health.  Altogether  I  and  ventured  to  profess  that  she  understood  it ; 
he  was  a  tender  plant,  which  required  particu-  aud  alhough  there  were  texts  and  passages  in 
lar  care.  j  that  book  with  regard  to  which  she  could  form 

Mary    and     he  were  almost    inseparable,    no  intelligent  or  satisfactory  conclusion,  yet, 
V?  hen  he  could  not  attend  school,  she  was  not    with  her  mistress,  she   would  boldly   assert 


EXETER    HALL. 


9 


that  the  whole  was  plain  and  easily  under 
stood,  and  that  the  "  wayfaring  man,  though  a 
fool,  need  not  err  therein."  She,  too,  had  read 
with  positive  delight  the  Pilgrim's  Progress. 
That  similitude,  and  the  story  of  the  trials 
and  temptations  of  poor  Christian,  had  for 
her  a  special  attraction.  She  generally  kept 
this  prized  little  volume  within  reach;  it 
seemed  to  be  her  chief  study,  and  were  she 
asked  to  really  choose  between  the  Bible  and 
John  Banyan's  Pilgrim,  in  her  heart  of  hearts 
she  would  choose  the  latter. 

Hannah  almost  worshiped  her  mistress ; 
she  was  her  ideal  of  perfection.  She  wonder 
ed,  at  her  patience  and  long-suffering ;  she 
wondered  at  the  faith  that  could  still  bear  her 
up  and  lead  her  to  hope  for  the  conversion  of 
her  husband  and  the  rescue  of  her  dear  chil 
dren.  As  for  Mr.  Mannors,  she  considered 
him  a  fit  subject  for  the  united  prayers  of 
God's  people.  He  was,  however,  to  her  a  kind 
friend  and  master,  and  in  all  other  things  ex 
cept  his  duty  to  God  a  fair  and  worthy  exam 
ple  to  men.  But  in  his  present  state  he  was 
a  "  barren  fig-tree,"  unregenerate,  and  under 
the  curse  of  the  law,  as  she  believed  that 
every  worshiper  of  our  benighted  reason 
must  be. 

Maid  and  mistress  were,  however,  toward 
each  other  what  the  Scripture  says  "  iron  is  to 
iron."  In  fact  it  might  be  said  that  they  had 
their  own  way  in  matters  secular  as  well  as  re- 
ligous.  They  alone  consulted  about  or  regula 
ted  household  affairs,  as  well  as  planned  relig 
ious  tea-meetings  or  donation  parties.  They 
concerted  plans  respecting  missi  >ns  or  Mag- 
dalenes,  and  to  bring  the  •'  word"  to  her  very 
hearth-stone,  at  the  suggestion  of  Hannah 
Mrs.  Mannors  had  decided  that  her  house 
should  be  the  head  quarters  for  the  next  ju 
nior  preacher  appointed  to  the  Hampstead  cir 
cuit.  This  suggestion  was  looked  upon  as 
an  interposition  in  answer  to  prayer ;  for, 
thought  Airs.  Mannors,  "  as  neither  my  prayers 
nor  any  thing  1  can  say  seem  to  have  any  ef 
fect  upon  my  husband,  perhaps  the  Lord  might 
reach  his  heart  through  the  lips  of  one  of  his 
chosen  servants." 

It  therefore  might  be  said  that  Mrs.  Man 
ners  was  religiously  afflicted.  Siie  morbidly 
fancied  that  the  love  of  her  children,  the 
many  comforts  of  home,  the  brig  it  sunshine, 
the  8:>iig  of  birds  or  the  odor  of  flowers, 
were  like  snares  ready  to  draw  her  aside  from 
the  narrow  and  thorny  way  in  which  she  fan 
cied  a  Christian  should  travel.  Yet  as  a  mor 
tal  she  felt  the  "  unholy  attraction"  of  these 
things ;  and  in  the  c  mtest  between  her  human 
feelings  and  her  faith,  she  had  often  to  bewail 
the  coldne^s  of  her  spiritual  love,  and  the  fligh 
ty,  flickering  light,  of  her  endurance.  This 
condition  was  often  aggravated  by  the  follow 
ing  favorite  texts  :  "  He  that  loveth  father 
or  mother  more  than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me, 
and  he  that  loveth  sou  or  daughter  more 
than  me  is  not  worthy  of  me."  Matt.  10  :  87. 
"If  any  man  come  to  me  and  hate  not  his  fath 
er  and  mother,  and  wife  and  children,  and 
brothers  and  sisters,  yea  his  own  life  also,  he 
can  not  be  my  disciple."  Livke  14  :  26.  These 
texts  and  others  of  similar  import  were  the 
cause  of  sore  trials  to  Mrs.  Maimors.  There 


was  often  and  often,  even  when  it  was  least 
expected,  a  sullen  strife  between  the  teachings 
of  the  word  and  the  impulses  of  her  nature, 
and  it  led  her  through  much  tribulation.  But 
did  not  the  saints  glory  in  tribulations  ?  Here 
was  comfort.  Alas !  alas !  how  little  did  she  yet 
know  of  afflictions.  If  "tribulation  worketh 
patience,"  what  comfort  would  it  bring  to  her 
were  she  to  lose  her  gentle,  delicate  son ! 
Dreadful  thought !  Or  her  Mr.  joyous  daugh 
ter  ?  and  oh — sorrow  of  sorrows — were  she 
called  upon  to  part  forever  with  her  dear  hus 
band,  even  though  the  spirit  ot'God  had  strick 
en  the  scales  from  his  eyes  and  changed  hia 
heart ;  even  though  he  were  snatched  like  a 
brand  from  the  burning,  or  raised  forever 
from  out  of  the  "  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay  !" 
What  would  this  avail  her  in  that  hour  of 
dread  tribulation,  were  she  left  to  behold 
those  dear  eyes  closed  forever  in  death,  and 
to  know  with  terrible  certainty  that  the  pul 
sations  of  that  tender,  loving  heart  had  for 
ever  ceased  ?  Even  now  the  very  thought  of 
these  tribulations  was  fearful — nature  had 
again  its  triumph — and  as  a  woman,  wife,  and 
mother  Mrs.  Mannors  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  wept. 

Fortified  as  she  was  with  numerous  com 
forting  passages  from  the  Bible,  yet  the 
thought  of  such  possible  affliction  was  almost 
overwhelming.  In  vain  had  she  prayed  for 
strength.  The  thought  of  such  a  calamity 
would  recnr  again  and  again,  leaving  her 
greatly  depressed  ;  and  now,  on  this  fair  April 
morning  her  mind  was  thus  clouded.  Her 
husband  had  left  her  but  a  short  time ;  she 
looked  from  her  chamber  upon  the  bright  sky 
and  pleasant  earth,  and  father  and  daughter 
and  son  were  still  in  the  garden.  Their  laugh 
ter  had  ceased,  and  the  traditionary  April  fool 
was  again  forgotten.  They  stood  silently 
hand  in  hand  in  the  soft  fresh  radiance  of  the 
spring  morning,  looking  intently  at  some  dis 
tant  object.  Save  the  hum  of  the  bee,  or  the 
song  of  a  bird,  there  was  almost  perfect  still 
ness  ;  even  Flounce  with  drooping  head  dozed 
quietly  behind,  as  if  spell-bound. 

The  view  from  the  dormer  window  of  Mrs. 
Mannor's  apartment  was  very  fine.  London 
and  its  churches,  its  steeples,  and  its  thousands 
of  habitations  were  seen  in  the  mazy  distance, 
together  w  th  the  dim  outlines  of  the  Surrey 
hills,  and  the  silver  Thames  threading  and 
glittering  on  its  winding  way  to  the  ocean. 
Now,  indeed,  there  was  a  change.  A  cloud  or 
pall  of  smoke  which  had  settled  during  the 
preceding  night  was  completely  spread  over 
the  vast  city  beneath,  hiding  the  distant  hills 
and  burying  the  highest  towers  and  steeples. 
Like  Gomorrah,  the  whole  city  seemed  to  have 
been  blotted  out  from  the  face  of  the  earth  ; 
but  there  was  one  object  yet  visible  and  at 
tractive.  The  morning  sun  had  just  risen 
over  the  lost  city,  and  had  spread  its  beams  far 
and  wide  over  its  murky  shroud.  The  great 
gilt  cross  on  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  alone  tow 
ered  up  to  the  sunlight,  flashing  and  glittering 
in  the  path  of  clear  sky  around  it.  As  it  thus 
appeared,  it  was  a  peculiar  object  of  beauty  tc 
the  little  group  of  spectators  in  the  garden  ; 
but  to  Mrs.  Mannors  it  was  as  a  vision,  working 
on  her  feelings  of  awe  and  veneration.  Tim 


10 


EXETER    HALL. 


bright  cross  was  then  to  her  like  some  apostol 
ic  representation,  or  like  another  Abraham 
with  outstretched  arms  silently  pleading,  "  yet 
again,"  for  the  doomed  city  and  its  denounced 
inhabitants. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IT  is  well  known  that  the  Rev.  John  Wes 
ley,  the  celebrated  founder  pf  that  popular  sys 
tem  of  religion  called  "  Methodism,"  was  a 
man  <'f  the  most  indomitable  perseverance. 
No  person  could  have  been  better  fitted  for  the 
task  which  he  had  undertaken — the  reform  of 
the  Established  Church. 

What  Luther  was  to  Catholicity,  John  Wes 
ley  was  in  a  great  measure  t<  >  Protestantism  ; 
and  the  little  offshoot  which  he  unostentatious 
ly  planted  in  Britain  has  already  spread  its 
branches  nearly  over  the  whole  earth. 

He  was  eminently  a  man  for  the  time.  The 
potentates  of  the  national  church,  surfeited 
in  luxury  and  indulgence,  were  too  much  ab 
sorbed  in  courtly  adulation,  or  too  much  en 
gaged  in  political  intrigue,  tovpay  any  great 
attention  to  the  common  pastors,  and  little 
, indeed  to  the  common  people.  The  grandees 
of  the  Establishment  had  then,  as  they  have 
now,  their  parliamentary  authority  for  eccle 
siastical  usurpati'  n,  and  for  their  landed  and 
pecuniary  rights  independent  of  the  clamors 
of  the  toiling  multitude.  The  church  was  the 
pillar  of  state,  and  the  state  was  the  support  of 
the  church  ;  and  on  these  props  rested,  and 
perhaps  still  rests,  the  grand  fabric  of  the 
British  Constitution. 

What  cared  the  "Lords  spiritual"  for  the 
murmurs  of  the  dissatisfied  populace  ?  They, 
the  regal  parasites,  never  sympathized  with 
the  discontented.  What  cared  the  titled  and 
wealthy  dignitaries  and  beneficiaries  pf  the 
English  "  church  militant"  for  the  bodies  or 
souls  of  their  menial  flock  ?  The  claimants  to 
apostolical  succession  seemed  to  satisfy  their 
conscience  by  the  rigid  performance  of  one 
particular  duty — the  inculcation  of  the  texts — 
"  Fear  God  ;  honor  the  king ;"  "  Obey  them 
that  have  rule  over  you,  and  submit  your- 
selves ;"  and  if  any  further  exercise  was 
required  it  was  concentrated  in  one  grand 
effort — to  take  care  of  themselves. 

John  Wesley,  though  an  humble  and  sub 
missive  minister  of  the  Establishment,  and  one 
who  always  contended  for  its  superiority,  was 
a  man  of  kindly  feeling,  possessing  a  deep 
sympathy  for  the  large  number  of  neglected 
pe  pie,  members  of  the  church ;  and  he  be 
wailed  the  spiritual  destitution  of  the  whole 
nation.  His  candid  suggestions  to  his  supe 
riors  were  rejected  with  pompous  and  official 
disdain  ;  and  thpugh  he  was  grieved  to  take 
one  step  in  advance  of  those  whose  duty  it 
was  to  lead,  yet  he  took  that  step,  and  did 
what  he  considered  requisite  to  mature  a  good 
project,  and  with  what  success  the  Methodism 
of  the  present  day  can  fully  attest.  He  start 
ed  almost  alone,  and  with  but  one  great  object 
in  view — the  spiritual  benefit  of  his  fellow- 
men  ;  and  if  it  can  be  said  that  his  efforts  in 
this  respect  were  misdirected,  it  must  also  be 


said  that  no  man  was  ever  more  truly  honest 
and  sincere.  His  self-denial  was  wonderful; 
and  his  labors  were  great ;  and  were  he  tc 
recount  his  struggles  and  trials,  he  might 
with  an  apostle  have  truly  said  :  "  In  journey- 
ings  often,  in  perils  of  waters,  in  perils  of  rob 
bers,  in  perils  of  mine  own  countrymen,  in 
perils  by  the  heathen,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in 
perils  in  the  wilderness,  in  perils  in  the  sea,  in 
perils  among  false  brethren ;  In  weariness 
and  painfulness,  in  watching?  often,  in  hun 
ger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often,  in  cold  and 
nakedness."  Such  a  spirit  was  destined  to 
overcome  all  opposition,  and  his  triumph  was 
in  a  great  measure  complete. 

Among  other  peculiarities,  it  was  the  habit 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wesley  to  record  in  a  journal 
every  circumstance  of  any  note  that  took 
place  during  the  day  ;  this  he  continued  to  do 
for  many  years.  In  his  numerous  journeyings 
by  land  and  sea,  he  made  entries  respecting 
the  state  of  his  mind,  and  of  his  trials,  temp 
tations,  conversations,  correspondence,  and 
reading.  But  there  were  other  entries  which 
were  more  particularly  dwelt  upon,  such  as 
strange  mental  impressions,  premonitions, 
interpositions,  or  any  event  which  might  un 
der  the  influence  of  enthusiasm,  or  in  the 
light  of  his  reputed  credulity,  be  construed 
into  a  special  act  of  Providence. 

Nearly  all  through  his  journals  many  en 
tries  of  this  kind  are  recorded,  ard  many  in 
deed  giving  minute  details  entering  deeply 
into  the  supernatural  or  spiritual.  Some  of 
these  relations  are  strangely  curious  and 
interesting,  and  to  this  day  "  Wesley's  Jour 
nals"  occupy  a  prominent  place  in  the  library, 
or  on  the  bookshelf  of  every  studious  Method 
ist. 

Following  the  practice  of  their  pious  foun 
der,  it  is  common  among  members  of  the  Wes- 
leyan  societies  to  keep  similar  journals.  The 
preachers  of  the  primitive  body,  for  many 
years  after  the  decease  of  Mr. Wesley,  made  it 
a  point  of  duty  to  erect  these  spiritual  memo 
rials,  and  the  duty  was  looked  on  by  many  as 
highly  beneficial,  and  almost  considered  a 
special  "  means  of  grace ;"  and  often  in  the 
declining  years  of  Jife,  the  quiet  perusal  of 
these  records  would  remind  the  aged  Chris 
tian  of  the  earlier  trials  which  had  beset  him, 
and  of  the  many  spiritual  triumphs  that  en 
couraged  him  on  his  way. 

But  if  it  is  yet  common. to  keep  such  jour 
nals,  it  is  by  no  means  general.  Those  who 
now  continue  it  as  a  duty  are  not  princi 
pally  of  "  such  as  are  called  to  minister  in 
sacred  things."  The  practice  in  this  respect 
seems  to  have  been  reversed  ;  formerly  it  was 
the  preacher,  now  it  is  mostly  the  private 
member.  In  the  struggling  days  of  Method 
ism,  the  preachers  were  spiritual  Sampsons, 
humble  minded,  energetic,  and  devoted  men  ; 
but  many  of  their  successors  at  the  present 
time  are  "like  an  entirely  new  race  ;  they  feel 
the  effects  of  their  "  connectional  "  influence  ; 
they  have  become  more  aspiring  and  lofty  in 
thought,  and  are  busy  courting  popularity 
and  political  influence,  establishing  "foreign 
missions,"  striving  for  an  eminence  in  lead 
ing  popular  schemes,  or  planning  how  tc 
obtain  money  to  erect  richly  decorated  and 


EXETER    HALL. 


»ttractive  churches,  or  to  circumambulate  the 
globe,  in  order  that-  their  teachings  and  reli 
gious  discipline  may  take  precedence  of  all 
others.  It  is  now  conceded  that  Methodist 
preachers  are  by  far  the  most  systematic  and 
successful  class  of  Protestant  beggars  in  all 
Christendom. 

Several  of  the  leading  preachers  of  that 
sect  now  choose  to  be  known  as  "  ministers" 
or  "  clergymen,''  and  wlv>,  with  the  prefix  of 
"  Rev."  or  "  Doctor"  to  their  names,  are  to  a  cer 
tain  extent  as  towering  in  pretension  and  as 
arrogant  in  authority  as  their  more  learned 
and  aristocratic  brethren  of  the  national 
church — the  real  "  successors  of  the  apostles." 
There  are,  however,  noble  exceptions  in  the 
ranks  of  Methodism — men  who  do  not  assume 
a  higher  position  in  the  church  or  in  society 
than  that  held  by  their  laborious  predecessors, 
and  who  are  still  content  to  be  recognized  as 
"  preachers,"  and  indifferent  as  to  whether 
they  are  called  upon  to  deliver  the  "  word  of 
life"  from  the  richly  cushioned  pulpit,  tower 
ing  up  beneath  the  gilt  and  stuccoed  ceiling 
of  a  fashionable  marble  edifice,  or  from  behind 
the  rude  chair  in  the  remote  and  humble  cot 
tage  of  the  peasant. 

It  is  yet  correct  to  state  that  many  private 
members,  and  it  may  be  some  preachers,  still 
adhere  to  the  old  practice  of  Mr.  Wesley, 
and  profess  to  find  the  keeping  of  a  daily  rec 
ord  very  beneficial,  and  an  incentive  to  good 
works. 

In  this  particular,  Mrs.  Mannors  followed 
the  example  of  the  venerable  founder  of  her 
church.  The  religious  services  of  the  Method 
ists  are,  in  some  respects,  if  not  novel,  at 
least  very  singular.  Among  these  services, 
one  of  a  peculiar  nature  is  known  as  "  class, 
meeting."  A  class  is  composed  of  five  or  six, 
or  may  be  of  a  dozen,  actual  members  of  the 
society,  in  good  standing.  Every  such  class 
has  its  "  leader  " — a  person  who  has  been  well 
tried  and  approved,  and  one  of  known  experi 
ence  in  "  Ifoly  things,"  appointed  to  meet 
these  members  at  stated  periods.  At  such 
meetings,  each  member  is  personally  addressed 
by  the  leader,  and  is  required  to  express  in  his 
own  way  the  dealings  of  God  with  his  soul, 
and  to  give  a  brief  account  of  his  or  her  reli 
gious  experience  since  they  last  met.  As 
each  individual  concludes,  the  leader  gives  a 
few  appropriate  words  of  admonition  or  en 
couragement,  and  generally  recommends  a 
greater  attention  to  prayer,  and  a  closer  ob 
servance  of  some  duty  hitherto  neglected. 

The  leader  of  the  class  of  which  Mrs.  Man 
nors  was  a  member  strongly  urged  the  duty 
of  watchfulness  ;  and,  as  a  means  of  detection, 
advised  that  each  member  should  if  possible 
keep  a  journal,  and  daily  make  therein  such 
entries  respecting  trials,  temptations,  and  sug 
gestions  from  the  Evil  One,  as  might  be  deem 
ed  applicable.  Mrs.  Mannors.  therefore,  kept 
a  journal,  and  noted  for  her  perusal  every  in 
cident  or  matter  which  her  feelings  led  her  to 
think  might  anvct  her  spiritual  interest ;  and 
the  entry  made  by  her  on  the  first  day  of 
April  was  as  follows : 

"  April  1st. — This  morning  was  again  blest 
in  believing.  Oh !  for  more  faith.  Would 
that  the  faith  of  the  saints  were  given  to  un 


believers!  I  still  hope.  God's  arm  is  not 
shortened  ;  his  power  is  still  great,  even  to  the 
sending  of  signs  and  visions.  This  morning 
his  glorious  cross  was  visible  to  my  mortal 
eyes.  Satan  would  have  it  a  delusion  ;  but  I 
will  believe."  Then  followed  these  lines  from 
one  of  Wesley's  hymns : 

"  Lift  up  for  all  mankind  to  sec, 

The  standard  of  their  dying  God, 
And  point  them  to  the  shameful  tree, 
The  cross  all  stained  with  hallowed  blood." 

Although  it  was  not  unusual  to  see  a  vast 
cloud  of  smoke  stretching  over  London,  suffi 
cient  even  at  times  almost  to  hide  the  tops  of 
the  highest  steeples,  yet  it  was  an  uncommon 
sight  indeed  to  find  the  city  so  completely 
hidden  as  it  appeared  to  be  that  morning — the 
lone  cross  the  only  distinct  object.  To  the 
natural  philosopher  it  was  a  beautiful  sight ; 
it  was  very  much  so  to  Mr.  Mannors  and  hia 
companions.  There  was  no  mystery  to  them 
about  the  matter  ;  even  William,  if  asked  by 
his  father,  could  have  given  an  explanation  of 
the  appearance  and  the  atmospheric  cause. 
But  to  his  mother  it  was  something  more. 
Her  mind  was  strongly  impressed  that  sh« 
had  been  permitted  to  behold  a  vision,  and  she 
felt  certain  that  some  revelation  or  promise 
was  thereby  intended  for  her  special  edifica 
tion. 

During  a  long  period  of  the  religious  ca 
reer  of  Mrs.  Mannors,  she  had  often  had 
dreams  and  visions  of  a  singular  and  impres 
sive  character.  In  seasons  of  active  religious 
duty  and  continued  prayer,  she  would  go  forth 
in  dreams  to  Calvary,  on  which  the  cross  and 
Saviour  would  be  for  her  again  erected ;  she 
would  ijive  a  minute  description  of  his  person 
and  tell  of  the  benignant  smile  that  he  be 
stowed  on  her.  Then  again  she  would  re 
late  some  curious  interposition;  and  a  cir 
cumstance  that  might  pass  entirely  unnoticed 
at  other  times  would  at  these  particular  peri 
ods  be  traced  to  the  hand  of  a  special  provi 
dence.  It  appeared,  therefore,  that  her  mind 
was  occasionally  best  by  illusions;  and 
during  certain  periodical  religious  excite 
ments,  she  ate  and  drank,  or  walked  about,  or 
slept,  in  hourly  expectation  of  being  the  cho 
sen  bearer  of  some  supernatural  burden. 

When  she  entered  the  breakfast  room  that 
morning,  her  reason  was  evidently  perplexed 
by  the  vivid  feelings  which  then  had  the  con 
trol.  Mr.  Mannors,  who  at  once  noticed  the 
appearance  of  anxious  excitement  depicted  on 
her  face,  and  who  always  felt  and  manifested 
the  most  tender  interest  respecting  her,  laid 
liis  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder  and  said : 

"  My  dear,  I  think  you  did  wrong  by  follow- 
ng  our  example,  and  leaving  your  room  so 
sarlv." 

Mr.  Mannors  was  seated  on  a  sofa,  and  her 
looks  certainly  betrayed  the  strong  emotions 
which  affected  her  at  the  moment ;  she  tried 
to  appear  calm,  but  her  anxiety  was  plainly 
visible.  Mary  and  William  sat  close  to  her, 
and  were  impulsive  echoes  of  what  their  fa 
ther  had  just  said. 

"  You  know,  Ma,"  said  Mary,  "  that  Pa,  and 
I,  and  William  agreed  to  be  up  very  early 
this  morning.  Pa  wagered  that  he  would  be 
in  the  garden  first,  and  William  and  I  agreed 


12 


EXETER    HALL. 


that  whichever  of  iis  awoke  soonest  should 
call  the  other,  so  that  we  should  get  out  before 
Pa  ;  but  I  think  Pa  would  have  won  only  for 
the  plan  which  William  took." 

"  The  way  I  did,  Ma,  I  saw  Robert  last  even 
ing  in  the  stable,  and  I  knew  that  he  intended 
to  drive  to  Camden  very  early.  I  told  him  to 
call  me  as  soon  as  he  could  see  the  dawn,  so 
he  did  ;  then  I  called  Mary  ;  that  was  how  she 
won  the  gloves.  No-  doubt  Pa  wondered 
how  we  out-generaled  him.  Wasn't  my 
plan  a  good  one,  Ma  ?" 

This  hurried  account  of  how  the  wager 
was  won  was  but  so  many  cheerful  words, 
spoken  as  much  to  attract  the  attention  of 
Mrs.  Manners  and  amuse  her,  in  order  that 
the  settled  gravity  of  her  looks  might  grad 
ually  brighten  into  the  wished  tor  parental 
smile  of  approval.  To  effect  this  with  cer 
tainty,  they  went  on  without  a  pause  to  mo 
nopolize  the  conversation. 

"  See,  Ma,"said  Mary,  pulling  out  her  gloves, 
"  are  not  these  pretty  ?  This  is  my  wager." 

Then  the  story  of  the  April  fool  was  related  ; 
but  while  Mrs.  Manners  seemed  to  listen,  it 
was  plain  that  her  thoughts  were  preoccupied ; 
she  looked  wistfully  from  one  to  the  other,  but 
Said  not  a  word. 

"Are  not  these  beautiful?"  said  William, 
presenting  his  mother  with  a  bunch  of  fresh 
spring  flowers.  "  See  what  a  nice  bouquet  I 
have  brought  you !" 

He  began  to  arrange  them  in  a  small  vase  ; 
and  when  done,  he  playfully  held  it  toward 
his  mother's  face  in  order  to  have  her  catch 
the  perfume. 

The  breakfast  room  of  Heath  Cottage  looked 
that  morning  a  pleasing  picture  in  a  happy 
home.  The  table  neatly  set ;  the  white  cloth, 
the  shining  cups,  and  the  polished  kettle.  The 
chairs,  sola,  and  other  articles  in  the  room 
stood  around  as  il  they  were  enjoying  them 
selves,  and  determined  to  exhibit  to  the  best 
advantage  their  glistening  outlines  in  the  sun 
shine  that  fkxxled  the  whole  apartment. 

It  did  look  like  home.  Mary's  little  straw 
hat  lay  on  the  sofa  where  she  hurriedly  tossed 
it  as  she  rushed  in,  laughing,  chased  by  her 
brother ;  and  now  as  she  stood  before  them 
she  looked  as  beautiful  inside  of  the  house  as 
the  fair  spring  morning  did  outside.  No 
three  beings  could  have  been  apparently 
more  happy — poor  Mrs.  Mannors  alone  being 
the  shadow.  Here  she  was  surrounded  with 
cheerfulness  and  worldly  comforts,  loved  and 
waited  on  by  those  who  would  have  been  de 
lighted  to  add  to  her  happiness  ;  but  she  was 
not  happy;  and  as  you  looked  at  her  now, 
seated  demurely  at  the  table,  you  would  have 
every  moment  expected  to  hear  her  sigh  out : 
"  Alas,  alas  1  all  is  vanity." 

"  O  Ma !''  said  Mary,  as  if  suddenly  re 
collecting,  "  if  you  had  only  been  in  the 
garden  you  would  have  had  a  most  mag 
nificent  view.  You  know  the  city  is  very 
often  hidden  by  the  immense  volume  of 
smoke  that  descends  during  the  night.  Well, 
this  morning  in  particular,  London  was 
as  completely  lost  to  our  sight  as  if  it  had  ' 
been  swallowed  up  in  the  ocean  ;  and  as  you 
looked  away,  away,  in  the  seeming  boundless 
distance,  you  could  see  the  sunbeams  centre  i 


on  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  and  the  great  cross 
being  the  only  object  visible  might  be  easily 
fancied  a  light-house  far,  far  out  at  sea.  We 
all  declared  that  it  was  singularly  attractive. 
I  do  wish,  Ma,  you  had  seen  it." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Mannors,  "  why 
let  your  fancy  interfere  with  an  appearance 
that  God  probably  called  forth,  and  intended 
as  a  sign  of  his  good-will  and  of  his  long-suf 
fering  and  forbearance  ?  I  saw  the  hallo  wed 
object  from  the  window  ;  1,  too,  saw  the  sacred 
emblem  of  our  religion,  so  much  despised  by 
the  world,  exalted  on  high  in  the  blessed 
sunlight,  and  pointing  to  heaven  while  the 
world  beneath  seemed  buried  in  iniquity. 
A  revelation  from  God  is  not  an  impossi 
bility  even  at  the  present  day ;  his  elect  have 
proof  of  this.  We  have  now  the  clear  light 
of  his  sacred  word,  and  if  this^ fails — as,  alas  ! 
it  too  often  does — he  may  in  his  mercy  and 
loving-kindness  give  us  even  again  signs  and 
tokens  as  he  did  of  old.  If  our  hearts  con 
tinue  to  stray  from  him,  he  may  use  extraordi 
nary  means  to  wean  us  from  the  world.  If 
we  remain  stiff-necked  and  stubborn,  instead 
of  the  cross,  held  up  as  a  token  of  his  love, 
we  may  but  witness  the  fierce  lightning  of 
his  indignation.  God's  special  providence 
may  have  produced  a  sign  and  a  token  this 
morning  for  us ;  let  us  not  look  on  it  as  a  triv 
ial  occurrence.  How  otten  are  we  warned  in 
dreams  and  visions  of  the  night.  The  cross 
which  we  but  an  hour  since  witnessed  is  the 
emblem  of  Christianity,  and  was  no  doubt,  in 
my  mind,  a  special  token  for  us.  By  that 
blessel  token,  the  Almighty  has  often  with 
great  condescension  converted  others ;  by  that, 
a  persecuting  Paul,  and  the  debased  and 
heathen  emperor  Constantino,  were  brought 
to  a  saving  knowledge  of  the  truth.  We  have 
just  had  an  evidence  of  divine  interposition  ; 
then  let  us  not  neglect  the  great  salvation." 

As  she  spoke,  any  evidence  of  gloom  that 
might  have  been  previously  traced  on  her 
countenance  had  now  entirely  disappeared. 
Her  face  brightened  up,  and  was  overspread 
with  a  sudden  flush  ;  but  there  was  something 
inexpressible  in  her  eye,  something  that 
would  have  been  once  mistaken  as  prophetic. 
She  was  again  calm,  and  what  she  had 
expressed  was  spoken  with  great  sincerity  and 
affection.  Her  mind  had  been  overcharged 
with  strangely  misshapen  ideas,  and,  as  the 
words  fell  from  her  lips,  the  mental  burden 
seemed  to  become  lighter  and  lighter. 

"  I  will  not  dispute  with  you,  my  dear,"  •jaid 
Mr.  Mannors,  "  as  to  what  the  Scriptures  state 
respecting  the  miraculous  light  St.  Paul  is  said 
to  have  witnessed ;  you  firmly  believe  in  what 
you  call  the 'written  word,'  and  would  not 
allow  a  doubt  concerning  it  to  exist  in  your 
mind.  Were  I  fully  competent,  it  might  per 
haps  be  useless  for  me  to  try  and  affect  your  be 
lief  relative  to  that  mid-day  vision." 

"  Indeed,  it  would.  I  am  as  satisfied  of  the 
truth  of  what  the  New  Testament  relates  as  to 
the  conversion  of  St.  Paul  as  1  am  of  the  truth 
of  my  own  existence.  There  is  not  a  passage 
nor  even  a  word  recorded  in  that  holy  book,  but 
has  my  full  and  entire  belief;  and  to  listen  to 
any  evidence  against  its  inspired  statements 
would  be  only  soliciting  and  welcoming  a 


EXETER    HALL, 


temptation  from  the  evil  one.  If  we  are  to  go 
on  doubting  according  to  the  foolish  sugges 
tions  of  our  blind  reason,  morality,  religion, 
and  faith  would  soon  disappear,  and  leave  the 
world  in  midnight  darkness." 

"  The  very  strong  assertions  which  you  have 
just  made,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mannors, "  must  for 
ever  debar  you  from  investigation;  and  if  you 
always  adhere  to  the  exprt-ssions  you  have  used 
respecting  Scriptural  truth,  you  must  ever  re 
main  bound  to  a  belief  that  would  now  be 
terribly  embarrassing  to  some  of  the  most 
prominent  teachers  of  the  Christian  faith.  I 
need  scarcely  inform  you  that  many  eminent 
Commentators,  who  have  made  it  the  study 
of  their  lives  to  explain  and  reconcile  conflict 
ing  texts,  admit  its  impossibility,  and  confess 
themselves  exceedingly  perplexed  with  the 
numerous  interpolations  and  contradictory 
passages  which  they  have  discovered  in  the 
Bible.  There  are,  for  instance,  gross  discrepan 
cies  in  the  inspired  accounts  of  Paul's  conver 
sion  ;  and  you  are  already  aware  that  Luther, 
the  great  apostle  of  the  Reformation,  totally 
rejected  as  spurious  the  entire  Revelation  of 
St.  John — the  last  twenty-two  chapters  of  the 
New  Testament. 

"  But  I  have  no  desire  at  present  to  give  you 
instances  of  other  doubts  which  have  been 
raised  against  the  credibility  of  the  Scriptures. 
I  would  like  to  call  your  attention  to  histori 
cal  facts  in  relation  to  the  supposed  conver 
sion  of  Constantine. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  that  the  legend  about 
Constantine  and  the  cross  has  any  foundation 
in  fact  ?  Do  you  believe  the  story  of  the  sign 
which  is  said  to  have  appeared  to  him  in  the 
heavens,  bearing  the  motto,  '  By  this  con 
quer'  ?  Do  you  really  believe  that  this  repu 
ted  miraculous  vision  was  the  cause  of  the 
heathen  Emperor's  conversion  to  Chris 
tianity  i" 

"  I  have  no  reason,  nor  have  I  any  right,  to 
doubt  it.  The  most  eminent  men  of  that 
period  were  satisfied  of  its  truth  ;  and  even  to 
the  present  day  many  of  the  most  learned 
and  faithful  of  the  church  of  God  have,  time 
after  time,  related  the  story  for  general  belief. 
We  should  not  undervalue  the  Bible  because 
there  are  or  may  be  different  interpretations 
of  it.  The  Scriptures  warn  us  against  '  per 
verse  teachings;'  for  we  know  that  even 
ministers  of  religion  have  tried  to  twist,  the 
true  meaning  of  the  word  to  accommodate 
their  own  views.  As  for  Luther's  opinion  of 
t  he  Apocalypse,  I  care  but  little ;  he  was  but 
:m  erring  man,  his  acts  were  not  always  de 
fensible.  He  was  at  times  a  skeptic,  and 
would  have  been  a  persecutor." 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  contend  with  you  now  as 
to  why  religious  doctors  will  differ  so  widely 
:•  -spccting  what  they  assert  in  the  press  and 
pulpit  to  be  so  easily  understood.  You  are 
inclined  to  accept  as  truth  the  relation  about 
<  'onstantine  ;  but  if  we  allow  our  feelings  or 
impressions  to  be  the  foundation  of  an  opin 
ion,  we  are  very  likely  to  be  deceived.  Long 
b  -torn  that  emperor  circulated  the  account  of 
the  appearance  which  he  said  he  had  seen  in 
the  heavens,  the  heathen  multitude  were 
taught  to  believe  that  he  was  permitted  to 
behold  with  mortal  eyes  the  visible  majesty 


of  their  tutelar  deity,  and  that  whether  wak 
ing  or  in  visions — which  were  then  quite  com 
mon — he  was  blessed  with  the  auspicious 
omens  of  a  long  and  victorious  reign.* 
These  are  historical  words ;  and  it  is  therefore 
plain  that  visions  were  not  a  novelty  to  Con 
stantine  whenever  he  found  that  they  could 
be  of  personal  or  political  service.  The  mi 
raculous  view  of  the  cross  had  in  reality  but 
little  effect  upon  himself.  The  common  im 
pression  is,  that  he  immediately  became  a  re 
formed  man — that  is,  a  Christian  ;  but  history 
relates  that  he  lived  for  many  years  after- 
ward,  and  alternately  encouraged  heathen 
ism  and  Christianity,  and  that  it  was  only 
during  his  last  illness  that  he  actually  receiv 
ed  Christian  baptism.  Constantine  was  a 
dissembler  and  a  monster  of  cruelty.  He 
drowned  his  unoffending  wife  Fausta  in  a 
bath  of  boiling  water ;  and  the  very  year  in 
which  it  is  said  he  presided  at  the  council  of 
Nice,  he  beheaded  his  eldest  son  Ciispus.  He 
murdered  the  husbands  of  his  sisters  Constan- 
tia  uud  Anastasia ;  he  murdered  his  father- 
in-law,  and  his  nephew,  a  boy  only  twelve 
years  old,  and  murdered  others."  Then,  again, 
he  caused  the  destruction  of  the  Pagan  priest, 
Sopater,  who  honestly  refused  the  remorse 
less,  royal  murderer  the  last  consolations  of 
heathenism ;  and  then,  because  he  was 
promised  immediate  forgiveness  through 
Christ,  he  warmly  espoused  Christianity. 
Such,  then,  is  the  historical  character  given  of 
the  man  whom  Christians  are  taught  to  re 
vere  ;  the  man  to  whom  it  is  said  that  Chris 
tianity  owes  its  legal  establishment.  He  was 
cruel  and  rapacious,  a  heathen  one  day  and  a 
Christian  the  next ;  and  his  name  at  last  be 
came  infamous  as  an  unfeeling,  dissimulating 
tyrant  and  heartless  murderer. 

So  much,  then,  for  the  great  convert  and  his 
vision.  I  was  as  much  pleased  with  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  shining  cross  which  was  vis 
ible  to  us  this  morning  as  it  was  possible  for 
me  to  have  been.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  but 
beyond  that  it  was  nothing.  You  believe  it 
was  a  vision,  a  special  appearance  for  our  edifi 
cation  ;  no  doubt  that  is  your  impression.  But 
why  are  we  not  all  impressed  alike  ?  If  God 
really  intended  to  manifest  himself  to  us  by  a 
sign,  it  is  only  reasonable  to  suppose  that 
he  would  have  made  the  evidence  so  satisfac 
tory  that  there  could  remain  no  shadow  of 
doubt  as  to  its  object.  What  is  evidence  to 
one  may  not  be  so  to  another.  You  can  no  more 
believe  for  me  than  you  can  breathe  for  me. 
Genuine  belief  is  not  a  voluntary  act ;  it  is  the 
result  of  thought  and  patient  investigation. 
If  I,  therefore,  can  not  believe  that  the  Almigh 
ty  manifested  himself  to  us  this  morning  by 
a  sign,  your  fancied  vision  is  a  failure  as  far  as 
/am  concerned." 

The  conversation  now  related  took  place 
during  the  time  occupied  at  breakfast.  Mr 
Maiinors  expressed  himself  with  unusual 
earnestness  ;  he  spoke  as  if  he  felt  that  every 
word  was  truth,  and  that  truth  must  be 
spoken,  DO  matter  what  the  consequence  ;  and 
were,  it  not  that  he  thought  it  might  be  pain 
ful  to  give  his  wife  other  similar  proofs  of  the 

*  Gibbon's  Roman  Hist. 


14 


EXETER   HALL. 


rile  character  of  men  imposed  upon  the  credu 
lous  and  simple  as  being  the  sanctified  lathers 
of  the  church,  he  would  have  done  so.  Many 
instances  of  the  treachery  and  deceit  of  such 
persons  occurred  to  him,  but  he  felt  that  he 
had  said  enough  ;  he  knew  by  experience  that 
it  was  useless  to  confine  Mrs.  Manners  to  fair 
argument.  Her  controversial  method  was  na 
ked  assertion  ;  and  if  she  listened  to  an  oppo 
nent,  it  was  often  as  if  in  pity  for  his  pre 
sumed  ignorance  and  unbelief. 

Mary  and  her  brother  were  quiet  listeners 
to  what  had  been  said ;  she  did  not  wish  to 
make  any  remark  for  or  against  the  opinions 
or  statements  advanced.  Mrs.  Mannors  had 
also  listened,  as  it  were,  thoughtfully,  and  with 
unusual  patience.  She  firmly  believed  in  the 
honesty  of  her  husband's  convictions.  She 
knew  that  he  never  dealt  in  rash  assertions,  or 
in  unkind  remarks.  What  he  said  she  knew 
he  believed,  and  if  he  acted  in  any  other  way 
he  would  be  untrue  to  his  own  character.  She 
would  hear  what  he  said,  painful  as  it  might 
be  to  listen  ;  and  while  he  reasoned  with  her, 
she  would  mentally  pray  for  his  enlighten 
ment  ;  she  would  ever  hope  and  wait  until  the 
Lord's  good  time.  She  had  great  faith  that 
if  the  inspired  word  could  prevail  with  the 
heathen.and  the  ignorant  and  poll  uted,  that  her 
husband  and  her  dear  children,  though  un 
clean,  debased,  and  condemned  by  original  sin, 
would  be  yet  brought  to  a  saving  knowledge 
of  the  truth.  To  her,  in  her  fond  affection, 
they  were  as  superior  beings,  and  she  had  an 
idea  that  the  Lord  would  look  upon  them  as 
such,  and  send  conversion  in  answer  to  her 
prayers. 

Breakfast  and  discussion  having  now  ended, 
Mr.  Mannors  retired  to  the  little  apartment 
connected  with  the  library.  He  sat  musing 
at  the  open  window.  The  morning  was  still 
fair  and  beautiful ;  the  very  air  was  fragrance, 
as  its  gentle  breathings  stole  like  the  sunlight 
over  his  face.  The  outer  world  was  very  quiet ; 
the  hum  of  the  distant  busy  commerce  was  now 
as  soft  as  the  hum  of  the  busy  bee  in  the  gar 
den.  It  was  a  time  just  fit  for  musing,  a  time 
when,  if  you  are  not  careful,  your  thoughts  are 
apt  to  mutiny,  and,  like  sprites,  to  scatter  the 
mind  in  fragmmts  away  into  the  dreamy 
twilight  of  oblivion. 

But  Mr.  Mannors  was  thinking ;  he  had  ever 
food  for  thought,  and  his  thoughts  were  ever 
vigorous.  He  dwelt  upon  the  multitude  of 
conflicting  opinions  that  agitated  mankind. 
Every  country  and  people  and  creed  has  each 
its  peculiar  idea  of  truth,  and  all  are  strug 
gling  and  contending  for  that  absolute  idea 
which  is  unattainable  by  man.  Wonderful  is 
the  mystery  of  belief;  the  deeper  the  mys 
tery  the  greater  the  faith.  All  religionists 
arc  great  believers;  and  what  a  multitude  of 
religions  and  diversity  of  creeds  1  The  evi 
dence  which  brings  belief  to  one  generates 
doubt  in  another  What  is  iruth  in  Eng 
land  is  error  in  Rome !  Belief,  therefore,  is  a 
mystery,  and  faith  has  made  this  very  world 
the  "  bedlam  of  the  universe." 

In  order  to  establish  a  religion,  you  must 
have  attendant  mysteries  and  visions.  The 
ancient  heathen  priests  wrought  on  the  minds 
of  their  followers  almost  ertirely  by  such  agen 


cies.  The  Egyptians,  the  Persians,  the  Jews, 
the  Grecians,  and  Romans  would  have  found 
their  altars  deserted  were  it  not  for  this  re 
source  ;  and  no  kind  of  religious  imposition 
has  ever  yet  failed  where  visions  and  oracles 
have  been  well  applied. 

The  Bible  is  a  history  of  visions ;  and  from 
such,  prophets  and  apostles  derived  their  mis 
sion  and  their  inspiration.  The  advent  of 
Christ  was  made  known  to  the  shepherds  by  a 
vision,  and  his  life  was  a  kaleidoscope  of  vis 
ions.  The  apostles  had  visions,  and  by  this 
means  St.  Paul  was  converted.  Then,  besides 
a  multitude  of  later  ones,  there  was  Constan- 
tine's  visions  of  the  gods,  and  his  celebrated 
vision  of  the  cross.  There  was  Mohammed's 
vision  of  the  angel  Gabriel.  Still  later,  there 
were  Luther's  visions,  and  Swedenborg's 
visions,  and  visions  to  the  Mormon  prophet, 
and  to  the  Spiritualists,  and  to  Latter-day 
Saints ;  and  last  of  all,  the  vision  this  morning 
to — my  wife. 

He  still  mused,  and  the  soft  wind-whispers 
that  stirred  the  young  spring  leaves  flew  in 
fragrant  ecstasy  from  bud  to  bud.  Mary's 
sweet  song  from  the  summer  house  reached 
his  ear  like  the  low  murmur  of  distant  melo 
dy,  but  which  after  awhile  gradually  swelled 
out  to  a  sound  like  martial  music,  slow,  plain 
tive,  and  funereal. 

He  looked,  and  a  strange  procession  passed 
before  him.  A  solemn  company  of  men  of  an 
tiquated  appearance,  attired  in  ancient  look 
ing  costumes,  and  headed  by  a  motley  band  of 
melancholy  musicians,  marched  slowly  on 
ward.  Each  of  the  antiquated  men  carried  a 
large  inflated  bundle  on  his  shoulder,  and  when 
he  arrived  at  a  certain  spot,  which  seemed  to  be 
a  deep,  dark  gulf,  dashed  his  bundle  down 
with  great  force.  There  was  a  flash  and  an 
explosion,  and  then  some  grotesque  monster 
or  horrid  vision  would  appear  and  disappear 
in  a  moment !  He  then  saw  two  demure-look 
ing  men  advancing  toward  him  from  opposite 
bides  ;  as  they  drew  nigher  they  spat  at,  and 
scowled  upon  each  other :  one  he  took  to  be 
the  Pope,  and  the  other  the  archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  They  held  with  firm  grip  stout 
episcopal  crosiers,  and  when  they  approached 
sufficient y  near,  they  stared  at  him  with  an 
angry  frown,  and  then  together  let  fall  their 
pastoral  staffs  heavily  on  his  head.  Mary  had 
just  stolen  in  and  given  her  father  a  smart 
pat  on  the  shoulder,  and  Martin  Mannors 
lifted  his  head  and — awoke. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IT  is  a  prevailing  opinion  among  certain 
of  the  worldly-minded  that  persons  who  are 
very  religious  must  of  necessity  be  also  very 
ascetic  ;  this  is  a  mistake.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  the  devotee  or  religions  enthusiast  of  the 
present  day  may  be  one  who,  above  all  others, 
is  able  and  willing  not  only  to  enjoy  the  crea 
ture  comforts  within  his  reach,  but  also  with 
many  of  the  aforesaid  comforts  and  delicacies 
to  seek  and  secure  secular  distinctions  for 
which  crowds  of  common  sinners  are  most 
clamorous. 


EXETER    HALL. 


15 


The  servants  of  the  church  were  never  yet 
debarred  from  reasonable  enjoyments  ;  and  we 
find  that  their  appreciation  of  things  condu 
cive  to  personal  ease  and  comfort  has  not  at 
nil  lessened.  Many  of  the  "  successors  of  the 
apostles"  can  now  innocently  display  their 
humble  wealth  in  palatial  residences,  and  can 
appear  in  public  in  gorgeous  sackcloth  as 
"lords"  of  the  "spiritual"  realm.  The 
"pious"  peem  to  understand  the  true  mean 
ing  of  pastoral  self-denial ;  for  presentations 
of  gold  and  silver  plate  to  those  who  minister 
in  sacred  things  are  quite  common  ;  and  if 
genuine  comfort  is  to  be  eajoyed  on  this  side 
of  the  grave,  priests  of  the  altar,  with,  it  may 
be  presumed,  the  greatest  purity  of  motive, 
strive  to  obtain  it  to  the  fullest  extent. 

In  very  old  times,  to  be  sure,  before  people 
ever  thought  of  trying  to  reconcile  religion 
with  common  sense,  to  be  a  devotee  then  was 
to  be  almost  as  entirely  dead  or  indifferent  to 
what  concerned  your  body  as  if  it  did  not  be 
long  to  you,  and  was  only  carried  about  as  a 
curse  or  temptation  to  be  got  rid  of  as  soon  as 
possible.  And  the  recluses  of  that  dark  period 
had  a  gloomy  belief  that  existence  itself  was  a 
burden,  from  which  to  be  early  released  was 
only  to  gain  a  readier  passport  to  paradise. 

Yes,  indeed  ;  popular  piety  in  those  morose 
ages  led  to  strange  misconceptions  of  man's 
duty  here,  and  of  his  destiny  in  a  future  state. 
But  no  matter  whether  pious  emotions  arose 
from  a  contemplation  of  the  virtues  of  Vishnu, 
or  Siva,  or  from  any  of  the  ancient  "  Saviours," 
or  from  other  gods  or  goddesses  of  the  most 
remote  antiquity,  religion  in  every  form  has 
had  its  frantic  votaries,  its  therapeute,  its  fa 
kirs,  its  monks,  its  anchorites,  its  convulsion- 
aries,  and  its  many  other  wild  unreasoning  vis 
ionaries.  Setting  aside  particular  instances  of 
the  fanat'cism  of  Egyptian  or  Indian  gymnoso- 
^/hists,  or  of  the  priests  of  the  Syrian  god 
dess  who  flogged  themselves  in  her  honor, 
or  of  the  priests  of  Isis  who  did  the  same, 
or  of  the  priests  of  Bellona  or  Diana  who  co 
vered  themselves  with  wounds,  or  of  the 
priests  of  Cybele  who  made  themselves  eu 
nuchs,  or  of  fakirs  who  went  loaded  with 
chains,  or  of  savage  devotees  who,  to  propitiate 
some  god,  would  as  readily  fling  an  infant  in 
to  the  Ganges  or  Nile  as  an  Israelitish  Jehu 
would  destroy  the  child  of  an  Ahab,  how  fear 
ful,  alas !  is  the  lesson  we  have  to  learn  respect 
ing  the  vicious  and  inhuman  impulses  which 
men  in  all  times  have  derived  from  the  influ 
ence  of  what  is  called  "  religion."  No  other 
influence  has  ever  been  so  terribly  potent ; 
it  has  robbed  them  of  their  reason,  it  has  made 
them  brutes,  and  guilty  of  acts  and  practices 
diabolical  and  most  degrading  to  humanity. 

But  fMin  the  praises  which  have  been  lav 
ished  on  the  Christ  ian  scheme,  from  its  protean 
creeds,  and  its  millions  of  worshipers ;  from 
t'.ie  submission  of  great  minds  to  its  inspira 
tion  ;  from  its  promises  of  "  peace  and  good 
will  ;"  from  its  reputed  virtue,  its  greut 
wealth  or  its  vast  popularity,  who  could  have 
expected  such  terrible  results  to  follow  the  es 
tablishment  of  a  system  which  promised  so 
much  charity,  so  much  benovolence,  so  much 
virtue,  and  so  much  peace  ?  In  the  history  of 
the  world,  the  plodding  progress  of  Chris 


tianity,  the  religion  of  warlike  and  desolated 
Europe,  can  be  traced  all  over  the  earth  in 
dread  characters  of  blood  and  ruin. 

Is  it  not,  then,  deplorable  to  discover  that 
austerities  and  debasemep.es  and  horrid  cruel 
ties  did  not,  cease  upon  the  inculcation  of  doc 
trines  which,  like  others  more  ancient,  espe 
cially  claimed  a  divine  origin  and  authority 
From  its  earliest  days,  the  new  fai  h  was  in- 
cumbered  with  delusions  and  absurdities  of 
the  most  degrading  character.  There  seemed 
to  be  no  modification  of  extravagant  practices 
like  those  of  ancient  heathen  devotees,  and  in 
tolerance  was  bid  to  reign  in  dread  earne'st. 
Multitudes  of  Christian  hermits  and  monks 
abandoned  the  duties  of  life  to  rusli  idioticalJ  v 
into  some  monastery  or  wilderness,  professing 
that  the  perfection  of  human  nature  was  the  an 
nihilation  of  genial  feeling  or  affection,  and 
that  the  passions  which  kind  nature  had  in.- 
planted  should,  if  possible,  be  uprooted  or  de 
stroyed.  For  this  purpose,  many  of  these  fana 
tics  went  nearly  naked,  letting  their  hair  and 
nails  grow,  dwelling  in  gloomy  caves,  or  in 
such  rocky  recesses  as  would  afford  temporary 
shelter.  It  has  been  written  that  "  the  mora 
rigid  and  heroic  of  the  Christian  anchorites 
dispensed  with  all  clothing  except  a  rug,  or  H 
few  palm-leaves  around  the  loins.  Most  of 
them  abstained  from  the  use  of  water  for  ab 
lution,  nor  did  they  usually  wash  or  change 
the  garments  they  had  once  put  on  ;  and  it  ia 
said  that  St.  Anthony  bequeathed  to  Athana- 
sius  a  skin  in  which  his  sacred  person  had 
been  wrapped  for  half  a  century."* 

Among  the  most  remarkable  of  these 
wretched  fanatics  is  that  of  Paul,  the  hermit, 
who,  it  is  recorded,  lived  for  over  ninety  yeara 
in  an  Egyptian  desert  more  like  a  beast  than 
a  human  being.  Gregory  Nazianzen  tells  of 
such  early  fanatics  in  the  following  words  : 
"  There  were  some  who  loaded  themselves 
with  chains,  in  order  to  bear  down  their 
bodies ;  others  who  ahut  themselves  up  in 
cabins,  and  appeared  to  nobody ;  some  con 
tinued  twenty  days  and  twenty  nights  with 
out  eating,  often  practicing  the  half  the  fast  of 
our  Lord.  One  individual  is  said  to  have  ab 
stained  entirely  from  speaking,  and  another 
passed  whole  years  in  a  church  with  extend 
ed  hands,  1  ke  an  animated  statue." 

But  it  ia  said  that  the  most  astonishing 
account  in  ecclesiastical  history  of  self-pun 
ishment  is  that  recorded  of  an  infatuated  per 
son  called  St.  Symeon,  a  native  of  Syria.  He 
lived  thirty-six  years  on  a  pillar,  erected  on  a 
mountain  in  that  country.  From  this  pillar 
it  ia  said  he  never  descended  except  to  taKe 
possession  of  another,  which  he  did  four 
times.  The  last  one  which  he  occupied  wag 
loftier  than  the  others,  being  sixty  feet  high, 
and  but  three  feet  broad ;  and  the  account 
states  tliat  on  the  last  pillar  he  stood  for  sev 
eral  years,  day  and  night,  summer  and  winter, 
exposed  to  heat  and  cold,  and  to  all  the  sud 
den  changes  of  a  severe  climate.  The  breadth 
of  the  pillar  was  not  sufficient  to  permit  him 
to  lie  down ;  and  it  ia  said  that  he  used  to 
spend  moat  of  the  day  in  meditation  and 


*  See  Dowling's  History  of  Romanism,  p.  88,  Taylor'i 
Ancient  Christianity,  pp.  426-401,  etc.,  etc. 


EXETER    HALL. 


prayer,  and  in  the  afternoon  until  sunset  ha 
rangue  the  crowds  from  all  countries  who 
nocked  to  hear  him. 

The  superstitions  abounding  in  the  early 
ages  of  the  Christian  Church  were  most  de 
grading,  and  overwhelmed  the  reason  of  all 
classes.  Accordingto  Mosheim,  there  were  fas 
cinated  biographers  in  the  sixth  century  who 
used  to  "  amuse  their  readers  with  gigantic 
fables  and  trifling  romances.  The  examples 
they  exhibit  are  those  of  certain  delirious  fa 
natics  whom  they  call  saint*,  men  of  corrupt 
and  perverted  judgment,  who  offered  vio 
lence  to  reason  and  nature  by  the  horrors 
of  an  extravagant  austerity  in  their  own  con 
duce,  and  by  the  severity  of  those  singular 
and  inhuman  rules  which  they  prescribed  to 
others.  For  by  what  means  were  these  men 
sainted?  By  starving  themselves  with  a  fran 
tic*  obstinacy,  and  bearing  the  useless  hard 
ships  of  hunger,  thirst,  and  inclement  seasons 
with  steadfastness  and  perseverance;  by  run 
ning  about  the  country  like  madmen,  in  tatter 
ed  garments  and  sometimes  half  naked,  or  shut 
ting  themselves  up  in  a  narrow  space  where 
they  continued  motionless;  by  standing  for  a 
long  time  in  certain  postures  with  their 
eyes  closed  in  the  enthusiastic  expectation  of 
divine  light — all  this  was  saint-like  and  glori 
ous  ;  and  the  more  that  any  ambitious  fanatic 
departed  from  the  dictates  of  reason  and  com 
mon  sen  e,  and  counterfeited  the  wild  gestures 
and  incoherent  conduct  of  an  idiot  or  a  lunatic, 
the  surer  was  his  prospect  of  obtaining  an 
eminent  rank  among  the  heroes  and  demigods 
of  a  corrupt  and  degenerate  church."* 

Then  in  the  tenlii  century,  scourging  as  a 
penance  was  the  prevailing  custom,  and  sin 
ners  of  the  highest  rank  cheerfully  submitted 
themselves.  Henry  II.  was  flogged  by  the 
monks  of  Canterbury  in  1207.  Raymond, 
Count  of  Toulouse,  was  flogged  with  a  rope 
around  his  neck  at  the  door  of  St.  Giles's 
church.  The  chaplains  of  Louis  VIII.,  King 
of  France,  were  flogged  by  order  of  the 
Pope's  legate,  and  Henry  IV.  of  France  was 
treated  the  same  way  by  a  cardinal. 

In  the  thirteenth  century,  men  almost  nak 
ed,  with  a  rod  in  one  hand  and  a  crucifix  in 
the  other,  flogged  themselves  in  the  public 
streets,  and  from  that  time  flagellation  became 
a  common  practice  nearly  all  through  Europe 
until  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  it  was  thought 
BO  commendable  that  Henry  III.,  by  the  advice 
of  his  confessor,  the  Jesuit,  Edmund  Auger, 
placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  flagellators. 
Even  to  the  present  dav,  in  parts  of  Italy  and 
Spain,  persons  may  still  be  found  who  prac 
tice  this  bodily  chastisement ;  and  now,  in 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when 
we  find  ritualism  on  the  increase,  when  we  find 
a  Protestant  Ignatius  in  England,  and  nunne 
ries,  and  other  gloomy  places  of  refuge  for 
pious  visionaries,  in  every  part  of  Europe,  as 
well  as  in  Asia  and  America,  one  may  well  ex 
claim,  that  the  race  of  silly  saints  or  of  wild  fa 
natics  is  not  yet  quite  extinct. 

Protestant  Christians,  however,  as  a  body,  de 
sire  to  claim  an  exemption  from  such  acts  of 
folly  and  barbarity,  and  assert  that  their  be- 

-  Sec  Mouheim,  century  vl.  part  8,  chapter  ill. 


lief  does  not  require  a  denial  of  any  proper 
or  reasonable  enjoyment.  But  Protestants, 
though  perhaps  not  yet  as  guilty  to  the  same 
extent  as  the  faithful  of  Rome,  can  not  assert 
that  they  are  free  from  this  charge.  They 
never  had  the  same  opportunities ;  but  when 
opportunity  offered,  they  have  been  as  intoler 
ant,  as  bitter  in  persecution,  and  altogether  as 
overbearing  in  spirit,  as  were  the  cruel  dogma 
tists  of  any  other  form  of  religion.  Protes 
tants  ought  not  to  boast  of  their  religious  liber 
ality,  or  freedom  from  religious  folly.  What 
has  been  the  liberality  of  that  monster  of  cu 
pidity,  the  English  Establishment  V  Already 
in  Britain  the  black  draped  seiis  of  the  High 
Church,  yearning  for  heathen  and  Romish  for 
malities,  have  done  much  in  a  quiet  way  to 
establish  religious  orders,  and  confessionals, 
and  places  of  seclusion ;  and  were  it  not  for 
the  strong  common  sense  of  the  common  peo 
ple  ;  were  it  not  for  the  hatred  of  oppression 
and  the  proud  love  of  freedom  that  exist  in 
that  little  isle  among  nature's  great  legion  of 
honor,  there  would  be  another  Star  Cham 
ber,  and  another  importation  of  relics  and 
thumb-screws ;  and  we  should  find  crosses  and 
pictures  and  holy  water  and  holy  candles,  and 
other  sanctified  trumpery  in  many  places  ot 
worship  erected  under  the  auspices  and  au 
thority  of  that  greedy  insatiable  mammoth. 

Are  Dissenters  or  Nonconformists  free  from 
the  sin  ?  Not  at  all.  Cromwell's  praying  le 
gions  were  a  set  of  morose  jangling  fanatics  ; 
mouthing  texts  of  vengeance,  and  whetting 
their  swords  to  glut  them  with  blood.  To  the 
elect  of  the  Puritan  cast,  we  are  indebted  for 
genuine  specimens  of  ascetic  folly,  supersti 
tion,  and  intolerance  ;  they  recognized  witch 
craft  in  America,  and  gave  weeping,  pleading, 
and  feeble  old  women  to  the  flames  in  Boston  ; 
they  hounded,  persecuted,  and  destroyed  un 
offending  Quakers  ;  and  established  a  rule  of 
terror  in  the  noted  Blue  laws  of  Connecticut.* 

Although  there  are  by  far  too  many  good 
Christians  who,  like  Mrs.  Manners,  still  think 
that  they  should  be  ready  and  willing  to  re 
sign  the  dearest  earthly  treasure — jewels  of 
the  heart — husband  or  wife  or  children,  in  the 
vain  fancy  that  the  sacrifice  would  be  pleas 
ing  to  God  ;  yet  the  majority  of  pious  people 
are  getting  more  sensible — a  sacrificial  theory 
to  this  extent  has  the  preference — and  the 
godly  seem  determined  to  enjoy  themselves. 
And  now,  if  you  had  an  opportunity,  Asmo 
deus-like,  to  peep  in  through  the  little  parlor 
window  of  the  comfortable  house  of  the  Rev. 
James  Baker,  you  would  at  once  have  a  con 
vincing  proof  that  the  straitest  of  formalist* 
and  the  strictest  of  church-members  can  be, 
at  certain  times,  as  cosy  and  contented,  and 
can  enjoy  the  creature  comforts  as  well  as  the 
most  worldly-minded. 

Looking,  then,  into  this  little  parlor,  we  B«e 
a  smiling  set  of  faces  around  a  cheerful  tea- 
table.  The  carpeted  apartment  was  very  pleas 
ant ;  the  pretty  landscapes  which  hung  on 
the  papered  walls  seemed  to  look  their  best ; 
the  bright  tea-pot  glistened,  and  its  odorous 
fumes  twirled  around  and  around  as  if  in 
ecstasy  to  reach  the  white  ceiling.  It  was 

*8ee  Note  A. 


EXETER    HALL. 


17 


not.  exactly  what  might  be  called  a  small  tea- 
party  ;  it  was  more  like  a  moderate  female 
cooA'ontion.  There  were  eight  ladies  quietly 
sipping  the  fragrant  decoction;  most  of  them 
were  of  rather  mature  age,  and  they  seemed 
to  be  engaged  in  the  pleasant  discussion  of 
some  subject  which  alternately  produced  very 
opposite  feelings. 

The  lady  who  presided  was  Mrs.  Baker,  wife 
of  the  minister,  and  leader  of  the  class  in 
which  Mrs.  Mannors  met  for  religious  exercise. 
Mrs.  Baker  was  a  person  evidently  well  fitted 
for  the  position  assigned  her  in  the  church. 
Though  her  mental  culture  was  imperfect,  she 
was  confident  in  manner,  fluent  in  words,  and 
well  supplied  with  hymns  and  texts,  which 
enabled  her  to  give  force  and  point  to  any  re 
ligious  remarks  she  might  make.  She  led  in 
conversation  as  readily  as  she  did  in  prayer ; 
and  if  she  could  use  texts  to  a  good  purpose 
with  her  own  sex,  she  could  also  occasionally 
give  wings  to  a  joke,  and  drive  away  any  su 
perfluous  gloom  that  might  follow  her  suc 
cessive  phrases  of  pious  observation. 

The  ladies  who  were  guests  at  Mrs.  Baker's 
that  afternoon  were  the  members  of  her  class 
who  met  at  her  house,  by  regular  appoint 
ment,  one  evening  in  every  week  ;  and  it  often 
happened  that  after  the  performance  of  their 
religious  duties  most  of  them  would  be  in 
duced  to  remain  for  tea.  Thus  these  periodi 
cal  reunions  were  very  social,  pleasant,  and 
profitable ;  and  through  the  week  this  meet 
ing  was  anticipated  with  much  pleasure.  The 
conversation  which  their  little  parties  found 
most  interesting  generally  related  to  the  pecu 
liar  interests  or  concerns  of  their  own  society — 
something  about  new  churches,  new  ministers, 
or  new  members ;  and  anecdotes  concerning 
the  formation  of  choirs,  or  Sunday-schools,  or 
tea  meetings  ;  but  the  subject  most  generally 
attractive  was  that  about  great  public  as 
semblages,  in  which  Methodism  was  expected 
to  appear  in  particular  refulgence.  Regular 
anniversaries  were  therefore  talked  of  for 
months  previous  to  their  recurrence ;  and 
meetings  of  conference,  or  missionary  meet 
ings,  or  Bible  society  meetings  became  for  a 
period  not  only  a  household  theme,  but  one 
which  for  a  time  absorbed  all  others. 

Mrs.  Mannors  being  one  of  the  most  regular 
attendants  at  class  was,  of  course,  among  those 
who  remained  at  Mrs.  Baker's  little  party  ;  but 
as  she  labored  under  a  peculiar  spiritual  de 
pression — a  frequent  liability — she  had  the  cor 
responding  sympathy  of  her  sisters.  With  the 
usual  formal  recital  at  class  of  the  trials  and 
temptations  and  impressions  of  the  week  that 
had  just  passed,  she  gave  a  glowing  account 
of  her  supposed  vision,  and  her  inference  as  to 
its  appearance  being  a  providential  token  of 
spiritual  succor  to  her  and  her  house;  and 
she  claimed  the  prayers  of  all  present  on  be 
half  of  those  so  near  and  dear  to  her.  The 
appeal  had  its  intended  effect ;  she  had  the 
tears  of  many,  and  the  promise  of  the  affec 
tionate  prayers  of  all ;  and  for  the  time  she 
felt  how  good  it  was  to  be  there,  and  she  grew 
more  confident  that,  where  two  or  three  met 
together  in  her  behalf,  the  expected  blessing 
would  be  sure  to  follow. 
Mrs.  Mannors  had  another  object  in  view ; 


she  expressed  a  desire  to  entertain  at  her 
house  the  next  junior  preacher  appointed  to 
the  circuit ;  she  hoped  that  such  a  person  in 
social  intercourse  with  her  husband  might  be 
able  to  counteract  or  eradicate  die  skeptical 
notions  which  he  unfortunately  entertained. 
As  it  was,  he  never  attended  any  place  of  wor 
ship  ;  and  as  she  had  failed  to  influence  him, 
or  give  his  thoughts  the  direction  she  desired, 
she  trusted  and  hoped  that  the  preacher,  as 
a  temporary  member  of  the  family,  might  be 
able  to  drop  a  word,  time  after  time,  which 
with  the  supplication  of  God's  people,  might 
have  a  good  effect. 

"  Sister  Mannors."  said  Mrs.  Baker,  with 
great  earnestness,  "  I  approve  of  your  plan ; 
and  it  is  most  singular  that  it  occurred  to 
you  at  the  present  time.  Strange,  I  never 
thought  of  telling  yon  that  Mr.  Baker  was 
notified  by  the  district  chairman  that  a  young 
preacher  would  be  sent  to  Hampstead  at  once, 
and  that  if  he  was  found  acceptable,  the  Con, 
ference  might  sanction  his  continuance."  Mrs 
Mannors  was  delighted  with  the  information 
and  she  immediately  told  her  sisters  in  the 
faith  that  she  looked  upon  this  intelligence 
as  the  first-fruits  of  her  prayers ;  and  her  con 
fidence  in  the  vision  grew  stronger  than  ever. 
"  When  do  you  expect  Mr.  Baker  home  ?" 
she  asked  eagerly.  "  Let  me  sse,  he  left  for 
the  circuit  on  Wednesday ;  he  expected  to 
meet  the  new  preacher  at  brother  Moffatt's, 
and  it  is  likely  that  he  may  be  here  to-mor 
row  evening,  or  perhaps  sooner." 

"  This  is  Friday,"  observed  one  of  the  sis 
ters  ;  "  Mr.  Baker  has  not  been  long  from 
home." 

"  Indeed,  I  wish  he  was  away  less,"  replied 
Mrs.  Baker.  "  I  often  envy  most  of  you. 
When  you  are  at  home  with  your  family — 
with  children  and  friends — I  am  here  mostly 
alone,  and  my  poor  man  may  be  wandering 
over  hill  and  dale,  as  the  song  says.  Well, 
well,  I  sometimes  think  that  this  way  of  serv 
ing  God  is  very  hard." 

"  And  so  it  is,  sister,"  said  a  member  of  the 
class  ;  "  but  you  know  it  is  a  great  privilege 
to  be  a  helpmate  to  a  servant  of  the  Lord ;  I 
often  wish  that  my  John  had  a  call.  What  an 
advantage  to  be  the  wife  of  a  true  minister !" 
"  I  feel  it  to  be  so  ;  but  you  must  not  forget 
how  rebellious  we  are  by  nature,  and  how 
dissatisfied  we  are  apt  to  become  at  times. 
When  I  am  here  alone  thinking,  I  often  won 
der  why  so  much  money  and  labor  should  be 
required  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  •  why 
there  should  be  so  much  running  to  and  fro  ; 
why  such  crowds  of  preachers,  and  why  so 
many  voices  to  make  known  that  which  our 
presumption  says  ought  to  be  as  free  as  air ; 
but  these  are  unworthy  thoughts.  Who  can 
understand  the  way  of  the  Lord  ? 

4  How  beauteous  are  their  feet 

Who  stand  on  Zion'8  hill. 
Who  bring  salvation  on  their  tongues 
And  words  of  peace  reveal.' 

Oh!  this  reminds  me  of  the  great  meeting 
we  shall  soon  have  in  Exeter  Hall." 

"  Exeter  Hall '! — to  be  sure,"  said  another 
in  delighted  surprise ;  "  yes,  next  month,  yon 
know,  will  bring  the  anniversary  of  the  great 
Bible  Societv." 


18 


EXETER    HALL. 


Half  a  dozen  sisters  now  became  most  pleas 
ingly  excited,  and  concentrated  a  look  of  in 
quiry  at  Mrs.  Baker.  Mrs.  Mannors  forgot 
aught  else  at  the  moment,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Yes,  that  will  be  a  great  meeting,  that 
will  be  a  blessed  time;  eternity  alone  can  tell 
of  the  good  works  of  Exeter  Hall !" 

"  Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Baker,  "  I  have 
heard  that  our  next  meeting  there  is  to  be 
something  wonderful,"  and  she  was  now 
the  object  of  a  rapturous  stare  from  all 
present.  "  The  last  time  our  district  chairman 
was  here,  he  told  me  that  native  missionaries, 
I  think  he  said  from  a  place  called  Tongata- 
boo,  were  expected  ;  and  that  a  Chief  from  the 
Feejees,  who  but  a  few  months  ago  was  as 
wild  as  a  Turk,  is  to  appear  in  his  curious 
dress  and  with  his  horrid  weapons,  and  he  is 
to  talk  to  us  in  his  native  language." 

"  Won't  that  be  interesting  ?"  said  a  de 
lighted  sister ;  "  how  I  wish  they  would  make 
him  perform  one  of  his  war  dances ;  it  would 
give  one  an  idea  of  how  savage  they  were  by 
nature." 

"  Indeed,  it  would,"  replied  several. 

"You  remember,"  said  Mrs.  Baker,  "that 
last  year  we  had  a  most  interesting  missionary 
meeting.  I  do  like  them  meetings  the  best ; 
I  almost  forget  now  all  the  strange  things 
which  we  heard  and  saw.  Don't  you  remem 
ber,  sister  Mannors,  the  ugly  idols  that  the 
black  man  took  out  of  a  bag  'if  What  a  lot  of 
big  and  little  ones  there  was !  You  remember 
the  war-clubs,  and  the  tomahawks,  and  the 
horrid  scalps,  and  what  the  big  Indian  said 
about  fire  water,  something  worse  than  vit 
riol  I  suppose,  and  about  drinking  blood  ?  I 
thought  it  very  interesting.  What  a  dread 
ful  state  these  poor  creatures  must  be  in  with 
out  the  Gospel  1  We  must  all  pray  that  the 
chariot  wheels  of  the  Lord  may  move  faster. 

'  Lord  over  all,  if  thou  hast  made, 
Hast  ransomed  every  sonl  of  man, 

Why  IB  thy  grace  so  long  delayed  ? 
Why  unfulfilled  the  saving  plan  ? 

The  bliss  for  Adam's  race  designed 
When  will  it  reach  to  all  mankind  ?' ' 

"  Well,  it  is  a  mystery  why  saving  grace  is 
BO  long  delayed,  and  poor  sinners  suffered  to 
perish.  Lord,  hasten  thy  coming!" 

Just  as  Mrs.  Baker  finished  speaking,  the 
rattle  of  wheels  was  heard  at  the  door ;  she 
hurriedly  went  toward  the  window,  and  ex 
claimed,  "  As  I  live,  here  is  Mr.  Baker  and  the 
new  preacher." 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Mannors  and  every  sister 
in  the  room  made  a  rush  to  the  window. 
Sure  enough,  there  was  Mr.  Baker,  home  be 
fore  his  expected  time,  and  with  him  the  per 
son  above  all  others  in  whom  Mrs.  Mannors 
for  a  special  purpose  felt  most  interested. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  sister  Baker,"  cried  Mrs. 
Mannors,  "but  this  in  providential!  Praise 
the  Lord  for  all  his  mercies!  Who  would 
have  thought  it  ?"  And  as  she  quickly  rubbed 
her  hands  in  actual  delight  in  response  to  the 
rushing  thoughts  of  sure  and  certain  victory, 
ehe  again  exclaimed,  "Thisw  providential!" 

The  sisters  stood  around  as  Mr.  Baker  enter 
ed  ;  lie  did  not  come  empty-handed.  He  car 
ried  two  baskets,  which  he  said  contained  pres 
ents  from  some  of  the  brethren.  The  young 


man  followed,  and  was  introduced  to  the  assem 
bled  sisters  as  "  Brother  Capel."  Then,  in- 
deed,  there  was  a  shaking  of  hands.  Mrs. 
Mannors  was  the  very  first  to  dash  at  the 
young  preacher,  and  was  so  rejoiced  that  were 
she  to  have  followed  the  strong  impulse  which 
almost  controlled  her,  she  would  have  saluted 
him  with  her  lips ;  as  it  was,  he  had  a  narrow 
escape,  and  one  might  judge  from  his  looks 
that  he  actually  thought  so.  The  other  ladies 
followed  in  turn,  and  on  the  whole  he  was,  no 
doubt,  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  warmth  of 
his  reception  and  at  the  number  of  "mothers 
in  Israel"  who  were  present  to  meet  him. 

It  was  evident  at  once  that  his  appearance 
told  much  in  his  favor.  He  was  of  middle 
height,  his  hair  was  nearly  black  and  in 
clined  to  curl,  his  eye  was  dark,  but  without 
any  vicious  ray  ;  his  cheek  was  red,  and  its  color 
was  now  much  heightened  by  his  peculiar 
reception.  The  expression  of  his  face  was 
mild  and  pleasing,  and  though  his  manner 
was  somewhat  diffident,  he  was  sufficiently  at 
ease,  even  before  so  many  ladies,  to  reply  with 
readiness  to  their  inquiries. 

Mr.  Baker  himself  was  no  way  surprised  at 
the  number  present ;  he  took  it  as  a  matter  of 
course ;  he  knew  that  the  class  met  at  his 
house  on  that  day,  and  that  Mrs.  Baker's  so 
cial  afternoons  were  not  few  and  far  between. 
Indeed,  as  his  wife  had  no  children  to  take 
care  of.  he  rather  preferred  that  she  should 
thus  enjoy  herself  in  his  absence.  Although 
a  matter  of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence  was  of 
as  much  consequence  to  him  as  to  most  other 
householders,  yet  he  lost  nothing  by  the  hos 
pitality  of  his  wife  ;  none  of  her  visitors  ever 
hesitated  to  bring  a  parcel  of  something  use 
ful  or  necessary  in  domestic  matters,  and  very 
often  his  table  was  in  this  way  quietly  and 
abundantly  replenished,  even  with  tho  addi- 
dition  of  sundry  delicacies  so  agreeable  to  the 
palate  of  ladies  in  general.  He  therefore  felt 
as  little  discomposed  as  a  man  could  be  under 
the  circumstances ;  he  rather  derived  a  kind 
of  satisfaction  from  the  knowledge  that  his 
wife  could  make  herself  the  centre  and  attrac 
tion  of  her  class.  In  the  most  bland  and  cor 
dial  manner  he  addressed  a  few  words  to  each 
sister,  answered  some  unimportant  inquiries, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  ladies  resumed  their 
conversation,  while  Mr.  Baker  and  his  friend 
retired  to  partake  of  refreshment. 

The  Rev.  James  Baker  l\ad  long  been  a 
preacher  in  the  Methodist  connection.  He 
was  now  over  sixty  years  of  age,  nearly  thirty 
of  which  were  spent  as  an  itinerant.  lie  was 
a  thin,  delicate-looking  man  ;  his  iron-gray 
hair  and  sallow,  beardless  face,  with  such  a 
hard,  worn  expression,  might  lead  one  to 
think  that  he  was  an  invalid  ;  but  soon  as  he 
began  to  converse  on  a  favorite  topic — Method 
ism — he  would,  as  it  were,  warm  up,  his  eye 
would  kindle  with  a  peculiar  light,  and  you 
could  then  ]>erceive  that  he  possessed  great 
energy  of  character,  and  that  sufficient  physi 
cal  power  was  not  at  all  wanting.  He  was  an 
active,  untiring  preacher,  and  went  through 
the  laborious  duties  of  his  circuit  with  punctu 
ality  and  faithfulness.  There  was,  in  his  opin 
ion,  nothing  equal  to  Methodism  ;  it  was  that 
alone  which  could  meet  the  religious  require- 


EXETER    HALL. 


19 


ments  of  the  age.  He  did  not  believe  in  the 
efficacy  of  any  system  which  only  required 
that  a  modern  apostle  should  preach  but  on 
one  day  of  the  week  and  let  the  other  days 
take  care  of  themselves.  Every  one,  he 
thought,  who  had  a  call  to  preach,  should  be 
at  the  work  as  long  as  he  could  jret  a  sinner  to 
stand  before  him.  The  Established  Church 
he  looked  upon  as  a  rapacious  monster,  burrow 
ing  out  the  vitality  of  the  Gospel ;  and  he  al 
ways  felt  indignant  when  certain  servile 
prominent  Methodist  ministers  would  obsequi 
ously  pander  in  public  to  its  spiritual  lord 
ships,  and  assert  that  the  National  Church 
was  "  the  strongest  bulwark  of  our  beloved 
Protestantism."  It  was,  in  his  opinion,  no  bet 
ter  than  downright  popery. 

He  had  a  show  of  toleration  for  some  of  the 
minor  sects ;  but  he  considered  Presbyterian- 
ism  as  a  creed,  cold,  formal,  and  lifeless ;  moral 
in  its  aspect,  but  deadening  in  its  influence. 
Methodism  was  the  all  in  all  to  him  ;  lie 
could  dwell  for  hours  on  the  virtues  of  "  our 
founder,"  John  Wesley,  and  he  believed  that 
no  man  since  the  days  of  St.  Paul  ever  equaled 
the  curate  of  Wroote.  The  Methodist  body 
was,  therefore,  the  "  salt  of  the  earth."  and  its 
ministers  were  destined  to  be  the  true  apostles 
of  the  world.  On  doctrinal  points,  he  was 
a  resolute  stickler  for  Arminian  views  ;  he  had 
a  leaning  to  controversy,  in  which  he  was  ex 
pert  ;  and  it  always  gave  him  particular  pleas 
ure  to  harass  an  opponent  into  an  admission  of 
the  scriptural  views  of  the  venerable  Wesley. 

Such  was  Mr.  Baker  as  a  preacher  ;  he  was 
unwearied  in  his  work ;  and  now,  as  that  work 
was  becoming  too  extended,  the  timely  assis 
tance  of  his  younger  brother  in  the  ministry 
would  be  the  means  of  supplying  every  call 
on  the  circuit.  Of  Mr.  Capel  he  had  heard 
the  best  accounts.  He  was  recommended  as  one 
"  holding  fast  the  form  of  sound  words,"  and 
who  would  be  an  example  to  believers  "  in 
word,  in  conversation,  in  charity,  in  spirit,  in 
faith,  in  purity  ;"  he  therefore  had  no  doubt 
but  that  there  would  be  a  great  extension  of 
their  beloved  Methodism  ;  and  that  their  ef 
forts  to  "  win  souls"  would  be  sure  to  pros 
per. 

Mrs.  Mannors  could  not  now  forget  one  of 
the  main  objects  of  her  visit ;  and  as  soon  as 
an  opportunity  offered,  she  made  known  her 
desire  to  Mr.  Baker,  and  he  admitted  that  suc- 
c  -S3  might  follow  the  adoption  of  her  phm  ; 
but  he  would  not  be  too  hopeful.  It  was,  how- 
over,  a  peculiar  failing  of  his — in  common 
with  most  Christian  ministers — that  he  could 
n  3ver  exercise  sutficient  patience  to  contend 
or  even  reason  with  any  person  of  skeptical 
vijws ;  he  thought  such  opinions  the  best 
pnv>f  of  the  wickedness  and  presumption  of 
fie  human  heart,  and  that  no  man  who  was 
ir)t  b')th  vile  and  stupid  could  for  a  moment 
r-.Vist  the  overwhelming  evidences  in  favor  of 
divine  revelation.  He  therefore  kept  aloof 
from  all  such  persons,  doubtful  alike  of  their 
honor  or  honesty  ;  and  during  the  period  he 
had  been  in  charge  of  his  present  circuit,  he 
rarely  visited  Heath  Cottage,  and  scarcely  ever 
addressed  Mr.  Mannors  beyond  a  few  words  of 
ordinary  politeness.  Upon  consideration,  how 
ever,  he  was  pleased  with  what  Mrs.  Mannors 


had  suggested ;  for  he  had  not  as  yet  made 
arrangements  as  to  where  Mr.  Capel  should 
find  a  temporary  home  during  his  stay  on  the 
circuit. 

The  itinerant  system  of  the  Methodist  re 
quires  that  a  preacher  shall  be  regular  in  his 
ministrations,  according  to  what  is  called  a 
"  plan ;"  and  in  the  course  of  a  month  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  is  spent  in  traveling 
from  place  to  place,  preaching  often  two  or 
three  times  a  day.  The  remainder  of  the 
period  may  be  spent  officiating  at  or  near 
home ;  and  during  that  time,  with  younger 
preachers,  they  are  required  to  attend  to  certain 
pr escribed  studies  preparatory  to  ordination, 
which  rite  is  not  conferred  until  about  the  end 
of  the  fourth  year  from  the  time  of  their  ad 
mission  as  itinerants  ;  nor  are  they  members 
of  Conference  until  after  that  period. 

"  My  dear  sister,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  "  I  see 
no  difficulty  in  making  the  arrangement.  Mr. 
Capel  has  left  himself,  as  it  were,  in  my  hands, 
to  locate  him  where  I  may  ;  we  will  speak  to 
him  at  once,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  in 
the  course  of  a  few  days,  if  your  worthy  hus 
band  should  not  object,  you  will  find  him 
dwelling  beneath  your  roof." 

"  You  should  know,  brother,"  replied  Mrs. 
Mannors  with  a  little  warmth,  "  that  I  would 
not  have  made  such  a  proposal  if  I  anticipated 
any  objection  from  my  husband.  To  do  him 
j  ustice,  he  does  his  best  in  most  respects  to 
contribute  to  my  happiness ;  he  never  inter 
feres  with  any  arrangement  I  choose  to  make ; 
neither  does  he  offer  to  limit  what  I  may  de 
sire  to  give  for  the  support  of  the  Gospel. 
He  is  truly  kind — I  might  almost  say  good, 
were  it  not  for  his  unbelief — and  I  therefore 
long  for  his  conversion." 

"  My  opinion  is,  sister,  that  your  husband 
has  sense  enough  to  know  that  you  are  right, 
and  that  he  is  wrong  ;  were  it  not  for  this,  he 
would  oppose  you.  If  he  were  honest  in  hia 
convictions,  he  would  resist ;  and  his  conduct 
toward  you  is  but  a  plain  proof  of  human  de 
pravity.  While  he,  like  many  others,  boast 
fully  sneers  at  our  faith,  there  are  solemn  mo 
ments  when  his  conscience  bids  him  beware." 

"  I  know  him  to  be  sincere,  brother  Baker ; 
no  man  was  ever  more  true  to  his  belief.  In 
times  past,  I  used  to  accuse  him  of  a  denial  of 
the  truth  ;  I  would  not  do  so  now  ;  he  speaka 
what  he  thinks  ;  and  he  still  asserts  that  scarce 
ly  one  at  the  present  day  can  be  truly  liberal 
or  tolerant  who  remains  bound  to  any  of  the 
principal  sects  of  Christianity.  I  may  profess 
what  I  like ;  he  would  not  interfere  with  me 
if  my  happiness  consisted  in  a  worship  of 
Juggernaut." 

Notwithstanding  this  generous  defense  of 
her  husband,  Mr.  Baker  was  not  convinced. 
He  would  never  believe  that  an  undisguised 
skeptic  could  be  a  trustworthy  person,  or 
a  good  member  of  society.  He  had  no  more 
faith  in  their  integrity  than  he  had  in  the  do 
cility  of  a  wild  beast ;  nothing  but  the  grace 
of  God  could  subdue  the  heart ;  and  a  person 
who,  like  Martin  Mannors,  had,  from  a  pious, 
patient  wife,  line  upon  line,  and  precept  upon 
precept,  and  who  could  after  all,  in  semblance 
or  in  reality,  successfully  resist  the  prayers  of 
the  people  of  the  Lord  and  the  promptings  of 


20 


EXETER    HALL. 


the  Divine  Spirit  was  a  person  to  be  avoided. 
With  such  he  desired  to  have  neither  inter 
course  nor  communication.  For  this  view  had 
he  not  scriptural  precepts  ? 

"  But  though  we  or  an  angel  from  heaven 
preach  any  other  gospel  unto  you  than  that 
which  we  have  preached  unto  you,  let  him  be 
accursed."  "  If  there  come  any  unto  you,  and 
bring  not  this  doctrine,  receive  him  not  into 
your  house,  neither  bid  him  God  speed.  For 
he  that  biddeth  him  God  speed  is  a  partaker 
of  his  evil  deeds."  A  person,  therefore,  like 
the  Rev.  James  Baker,  who  thoroughly  wor 
shiped  the  Bible,  could  not  possibly  resist 
the  force  of  such  texts.  He  was  therein  told 
to  "  beware  of  dogs,"  and  like  a  true  believer 
he  acted  accordingly. 

When  the  offer  of  Mrs.  Manners  was  made 
known  to  Mr.  Capel,  he  expressed  himself 
quite  satisfied  ;  he  was,  he  said,  in  the  hand 
of  Providence,  ready  to  enter  whatever  door 
was  opened  for  him.  A  few  arrangements 
had  yet  to  be  made,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
following  week  he  would  possibly  avail  him 
self  of  her  kind  and  generous  proposal. 

Here,  indeed,  was  a  consummation !  Who 
but  the  Lord,  thought  good  Mrs.  Manners, 
could  have  brought  this  thing  to  pass  ?  She 
could  now  return  with  renewed  hope,  and — a 
thought  struck  her— would  it  not  be  well  that 
before  they  departed  that  evening  their  closing 
prayer  should  be  made  to  the  throne  of  grace 
on  behalf  of  her  unconverted  husband  ?  The 
proposal  was  readily  accepted  ;  and  after  they 
had  nearly  all  prayed  in  turn,  the  closing  ap 
peal  was  made  by  Mr.  Baker,  who,  while 
kneeling  erect,  with  closed  eyes  and  extended 
arms,  and  head  thrown  back,  thus  concluded 
his  petition : 

"  And  now,  O  Lord !  thou  knowest  how  sinful 
and  depraved  we  are  by  nature.  Thou  know 
est  that  through  the  fall  of  Adam  we,  his  de 
scendants,  are  but  filth  and  pollution  in  thy 
sight,  truly  hell-deserving,  and  only  worthy 
of  eternal  banishment  from  thee.  In  thy 
sight  we  are  so  corrupt  that  without  grace 
our  best  actions  are  but  an  abomination.  But, 
blessed  be  thy  name,  thou  hast  provided  a 
ransom  for  us,  even  in  the  death  of  the  second 
Adam.  For  since  by  man  came  death,  by  man 
came  also  the  resurrection  of  the  dead ;  and 
now  as  there  is  blood  upon  the  mercy-seat, 
wilt  thou  not  be  appeased  ?  Wilt  thou  not 
again, 0  God!  stretch  forth  thy  hand  and  raise 
Boine  dead  Lazarus  from  the  tomb  ?  We  plead 
lor  our  afflicted  sister ;  we  plead  before  thee 
for  the  conversion  of  her  unbelieving  hus 
band.  0  Lord !  break  his  stony  heart.  Un 
loose  the  bands  of  unbelief,  and  set  him  free. 
Set  his  feet  upon  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  turn 
his  face  Zion-ward.  For  years  thou  hast  borne 
with  his  rebellion,  and  hast  not  cut  him  off. 
For  years  with  unrelenting  heart  he  has  de 
nied  thee  access,  and  resisted  the  drawings  of 
thy  Spirit ;  and  yet  he  is  out  of  hell,  out  of 
that  abyss  where  neither  hope  nor  mercy  ever 
conies.  Then  spare  him,  oh !  spare  him  a  little 
longer.  Lengthen  thou  the  day  of  grace. 
But  if,  0  Lord !  in  regard  to  thy  divine  justice, 
thy  Spirit  has  forever  taken  its  flight ;  if  now 
he  stands  like  a  condemned  wretch  awaiting 
the  execution  of  thy  sentence,  and  ready  to  be 


I  hurled  over  the  precipice  of  destruction  when 
,  thy  sword  falls,  and  when  he  is  lost — forever 
lost — and  writhing  under  thy  merited  ven 
geance  with  the  eternal  tortures  of  the  damned, 
when  neither  sighs,  nor  tears,  nor  prayers; 
nor  sacrifice  can  move  thee  again  in  his  be 
half,  then,  0  God!  pity,  oh!  pity  our  poor 
afflicted  sister ;  support  her  while  passing 
|  through  the  deep  waters,  but  above  all  things 
enable  her  to  approach  the  throne  of  grace, 
to  be  reconciled  to  thy  decision,  and  to  ac 
knowledge  the  purity  of  that  justice  which 
overwhelmed  thine  enemy.  Amt-n,  amen."* 
There  was  a  dismal  pause,  a  reeling  of  awe, 
a  great  silence.  Mrs.  Mannors's  heavy  sobbing 
alone  fell  upon  the  ears  of  those  kneeling 
around  her,  like  the  tapping  of  a  muffled 
drum  in  a  solemn  dead-march.  But  even 
then,  if  an  angel  could  have  lifted  the  vail  of 
distance,  and  have  exhibited  to  them  the  ob 
ject  of  their  prayerful  solicitude,  Martin  Man 
ners  might  be  seen  with  smiling  face  hand 
ing  bread  to  a  beggar  at  his  gate.  Mary  «nd 
William  could  be  found  close  by,  and,  like 
their  father,  following  with  pitying  eye  the 
feeble  steps  of  the  old  mendicant  as  he  moved 
slowly  away.  The  setting  sun  might  be  seen 
as  if  lingering  on  a  distant  hill,  while  part 
ing  beams  in  fading  glory  were  spread  far 
around.  Then  if,  during  the  pause,  the  an 
gel  could  have  touched  the  ears  of  those 
who  had  been  praying,  the  mellow  voice  of 
Martin  Manners  could  be  heard  to  exclaim  as 
he  looked  upward  into  the  sunlight,  "  How 
beautiful  1  how  beautiful !'' — and  the  poor 
wanderer's  blessing  would  seem  to  brighten 
the  sunbeam  that  now  rested  like  an  aureola 
upon  the  head  of  his  benefactor. 


CHAPTER  V. 

APTEK  Mrs.  Manners  and  the  other  guests 
had  departed,  Mr.  Baker  and  his  wife  and  Mr. 
Capel  sat  around  the  parlor  fire.  There  was 
a  lull  in  the  conversation,  and  each  was  look 
ing  in  thoughtful  s'lence  at  the  few  half-con 
sumed  coals  that  were  losing  their  fierce  glow 
of  redness  and  getting  every  moment  darker 
and  darker.  Mr.  Baker  appeared  very  reflec 
tive,  as  if  some  mental  problem  had  to  be 
solved,  and  that  he  was  determined  to  succeed. 
The  expression  of  his  face  changed  very  often 
and  very  suddenly.  His  lips  would  be  com 
pressed,  and  a  rapid  and  peculiar  contraction 
of  the  brow  indicated  a  struggle  of  emotions 
which  one  might  hope  was  rather  unusual. 
He  was  now  very  absent,  and  apparently  lost 
in  a  flurry  of  wild,  conflicting  ideas. 

Mr.  Capel  looked  at  him,  as  if  desirous  of 
making  some  remark,  but  he  noticed  his  ab 
straction  at  a  glance ;  he  therefore  dallied  a 
little  longer  with  his  own  thoughts,  and  went 
hand  in  hand  with  memory  a  long,  long  dis 
tance. 

*  The  charity  exhibited  in  the  above  clerical  prayer 
is  fairly  illustrated  in  an  extract  taken  from  ar>  Amer 
ican  paper,  namely :  Rev.  Mr. ,  of 'Obcrlin,  Ohio, 

in  a  recent  prayer  made  the  following  invocation  :  '  But 
how  shall  I  pray  for  the  President '!  O  Lord  1  if  thou 
canst  manage  him,  without  crushing  him,  spare  hin\ 
Otherwise,  crush  him  I1' 


EXETER    HALL. 


21 


But  the  silence  was  suddenly  broken.  "  Be 
ye  not  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbe 
lievers  :  for  what  fellowship  hath  righteous 
ness  with  unrighteousness?  and  what  com 
munion  hath  light  with  darkness?  and  what 
concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial  ?  or  what  part 
hath  he  that  believeth  with  an  infidel  ?"  "Yes," 
said  Mr.  Baker,  "  that  woman  is  deceived  ;  she 
has  been  unequally  yoked,  yet  she  would  now 
shield  and  even  hope  for  a  blasphemer  that 
openly  denies  the  Lord  who  bought  him.  I 
can  not  and  will  not  forever  sympathize  with 
her ;  she  still  clings  to  a  wretch  that  may  yet 
drag  her  down  with  him  to  deserved  perdition." 
The  preacher  spoke  with  his  teeth  almost 
clenched,  and  the  nails  of  his  fingers  were 
buried  in  the  soft  palm  of  his  tightly  shut 
hand. 

Mr.  Capel  gave  another  earnest  look  at  his 
superintendent :  and  his  eye  turned  immediate 
ly  from  the  dark  frown  that  met  his  view.  The 
individual  before  him  was  almost  completely 
changed  from  what  he  had  been  a  short  time 
previously.  The  seemingly  courteous  Christian 
was  now  a  bitter,  vindictive  accuser,  and  the 
zeal  of  intolerance  and  persecution  flashed  in 
his  eager  eye.  His  last  prayer,  uttered  so  af- 
fectiugly,  had  brought  tears  from  almost  every 
one  present ;  but  with  him,  to  make  such  an 
appeal  was  a  ministerial  faculty.  He  could 
raise  his  supplicating  voice  and  make  others 
weep ;  and,  strange  to  say,  could  at  such  mo 
ments  even  weep  himself :  yet  his  own  heart 
would  not  be  affected ;  while  his  face  was 
bathed  in  tears,  that  very  heart  could  be  as 
cold  and  as  hard  as  iron. 

"She  need  not  tell  me,"  he  continued,  "of 
his  honor  or  his  honesty ;  he  is  a  deceiver, 
base  and  black  as  the  father  of  lies,  and  the 
poison  of  his  vile  tongue  will  yet  bring  many 
to  eternal  ruin.  It  is  hard  to  pray  for  such 
an  enemy.  Would  it  not  be  better  for  the 
church  of  God  that  a  visitation  swift,  sudden, 
and  destructive  should  bury  such  an  apostate 
in  his  own  sin,  and  be  another  signal  warn 
ing  to  tlie  black  brood  of  scoffers  increasing 
around  us  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  that  some 
of  the  vile  sneering  herd  should  remain  de 
ceived  and  be  swept  away,  rather  than  that 
they  should  remain  to  delude  others  with  eter 
nal  misery  ? 

" '  For  this  cause  God  shall  send  them  a  strong 
delusion  that  they  should  believe  a  lie.  That 
they  all  might  be  damned  who  believed  not  the 
truth,  but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness.'  " 

"  Brother,"  continued  Mr.  Baker,  "you  have 
a  curious  mission  before  you.  Your  prayers 
must  be  divided  between  a  believer  and  an 
unbeliever.  You  must  become  a  practiced 
hand  in  dealing  out  spiritual  sympathy  to  sis 
ter  Manners,  while  you  have  daily  to  confront 
the  infidel  'blasphemies  of  her  sneering  hus 
band.  What  do  you  think  of  that?  She,  poor 
simpleton!  imagines  that  you  may  be  able  to 
influence  a  man  who  would  deny  the  bread  of 
life  even  to  his  own  children — who  would 
leave  their  minds  a  perfect  blank  as  to  relig 
ion.  Reason  with  him,  indeed !  why,  he  is  and 
has  been  all  reason,  and  philosophy,  and  com 
mon  sense  ever  since  I  knew  him  ;  yet  these 
worldly-wise-isms  only  leave  him  more  delud 
ed,  and  a  still  more  furious  and  determined 


scoffer  at  the  truth.  You  will  find  none  more 
plausible  ;  he  thinks  that  by  a  show  of  liber 
ality  his  sin  can  be  overlooked  ;  it  miglrt  be, 
were  it  only  to  bring  destruction  («i  himself; 
but  look  at  the  pernicious  influence  ot  his 
teaching,  for  I  have  heard,  alas!  that  some 
have  e»en  fallen  away  from  grace,  and  have 
become  confirmed  backsliders  through  his  vile 
but  honeyed  words.  Talk  of  education  and  en 
lightenment  and  progress!  would  it  not  be 
better  for  the  souls  of  men  that  gross  ignorance 
of  all  othei  things  should  prevail,  rather 
than  that  the  world  should  be  depraved  with 
that  scum  of  modern  reasoning — Infidelity? 
Would  it  not  be  better  that  all  secular  know 
ledge,  and  science,  and  high  sounding  philoso 
phy,  should  be  completely  lost  to  man,  rathei 
than  that  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God 
should  be  forgotten  in  the  vain  rush  after  the 
flighty  speculations  of  modern  science?  As 
soon  as  we  are  so  weak  and  uncertain  as  to 
submit  our  glorious  gospel  light  and  oui 
blessed  faith  to  scientific  investigation ;  as 
soon  as  we  submit  faith  to  reason,  or  allow 
our  confidence  in  divine  inspiration  to  waver 
in  the  least,  so  soon  may  we  close  the  Bible 
forever,  and  let  the  enemy  of  souls  have  full 
sway." 

Mr.  Baker  here  stood  up  and  commenced 
to  pace  the  room.  He  had  gradually  evoked  a 
feeling  of  Christian  indignation.  The  very 
thought  of  presumptuous  opposition  to  what 
he  deemed  the  inspired  word  embittered  his 
spirit  to  such  an  extent  as  to  make  him  al-. 
most  ready  to  consent  that  another  fire  should 
be  kindled  in  Smithfield,  rather  than  Protes 
tant  truth  should  suffer.  Unknown  even  to 
himself,  intolerance  was  here  doing  its  work 
in  the  mind  of  one  who  claimed  to  have  been 
regenerated  ;  and  James  Baker,  who  had  a 
strong  belief  that  he  was  chosen  and  called 
to  preach  a  "gospel  of  peace,"  might  now  be 
easily  induced  to  plant  a  stake  and  kindle  a 
faggot  or  buckle  on  a  weapon— verily  a  sword 
of  the  spirit — and  become  at  last,  like  a  thou 
sand  others  of  his  calling,  a  fierce  persecutor. 

"Jam*s,"said  Mrs.  Baker  quietly,  "I  fear 
that  you  allow  the  carnal  feeling  to  govern 
your  words  sometimes.  Would  you  become 
the  avenger  of  the  Lord  ?  Would  you  ask 
assistance  from  Satan  to  put  down  unbelief? 
If  God  is  willing  that  some  should  be  de 
ceived,  or  if  he  is  willing  to  exercise  patience 
and  long  suffering  with  such  as  are  puffed  up 
in  their  own  vain  imaginations,  shall  man  do 
less  ?  We  have  been  furnished  with  weapons 
for  the  enemies  of  the  Gospel  that  the  Evil 
One  will  never  use — weapons  that  are  sure  to 
overcome.  Have  we  not  prayer  and  faith  1" 

"  Very  true,  wife,  very  true.  I  admit  that  1 
am  sometimes  rash ;  but  when  I  think  of  the 
labor  I  undergo  for  the  spread  of  Bible  truth; 
when  I  think  of  what  is  sacrificed  in  missions ; 
when  I  think  of  the  years  which  I  and  others 
have  spent  in  the  ministry,  calling  sinners  to 
repentance,  and  then,  may  be,  when  we  fancy 
our  harvest  is  ready,  in  rushes  some  midnight 
plunderer  and  destroys  our  prospects.  It  is 
perhaps  wrong  to  be  too  impatient  in  such 
matters;  but  who  can  justly  tolerate  crime? 
Yes,  patience  may  be  necessary ;  but  who  can 
submit  to  the  presumption  of  gross,  palpable 


EXETER    HALL. 


error?  I  can  not  he»p  believing  that  our  pre 
sent  laws  are  far  too  lenient ;  the  faith  should 
be  more  rigidly  upheld  ;  there  should  be  some 
determined  stop  put  to  the  open  dissemina 
tion  of  pagan  error;  there  should  be  some 
stern, '  Thus  far  shall  thou  go  and  no  further.' 
Our  nation  can  not  surely  prosper  while  wicked 
men  are  allowed  to  beguile  others  away  from 
the  truth.  Reason  and  liberalism  are  now 
rampant  all  over  the  land,  despoiling  the  pious 
efforts  of  centuries.  They  must  be  tramped 
out.  To  be  plain,  if  coercion  is  necessary  to 
enforce  the  laws  of  erring  mi  n,  how  much 
more  requisite  is  it  thus  to  enforce  the  man 
dates  of  a  just  and  jealous  God  1  Are  we  not 
liable  to  incur  his  divine  wrath  by  our  apathy, 
our  forbearance,  or  our  so-called  toleration?" 

"My  dear  brother,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "let 
the  wicked  man  and  the  scoffer  and  the  wcr- 
shiper  of  the  glory  of  this  world  remain  in 
the  fortress  of  their  own  strength.  The  Lord 
has  promised  to  conquer  all  his  adversaries, 
and  he  will  do  so  in  his  own  good  time.  Has 
he  not  said  that  'kings  shall  fall  down  be 
fore  him,'  and  that  '  all  nations  shall  serve 
him'?  and  have  we  not  an  abundance  of 
precious  promises  in  his  word  of  how  he  is  to 
overcome  the  world,  and  does  he  not  bid  us  to 
be  of '  good  cheer'?  Then ,  brother,  let  us  wait ; 
we  have  our  allotted  work  to  perform  ;  let  us  be 
faithful,  and  God  will  not  be  forgetful  of  his 
waiting  saints.  The  Lord  still  says,  '  I  have 
sworn  by  myself ;  the  word  is  gone  out  of  my 
mouth  in  righteousness  and  shall  not  return, 
that  unto  me  every  knee  shall  bow,  every 
tongue  shall  swear.'  With  these  blessed 
words,  who  can  doubt  ?  Let  the  heathen  rage, 
and  let  the  world  scorn  us  as  it  may,  what  is 
erring.presumptuousman  before  Omnipotence? 
He  says,  '  Ask  of  me,  and  I  shall  give  thee  the 
heathen  for  thine  inheritance,  and  the  utter 
most  parts  of  the  earth  for  thy  possession.' 
'  Thou  shalt  break  them  with  a  rod  of  iron  ; 
thou  shalt  dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's 
vessel."  '  Evil  doers  shall  be  cut  off;  but 
those  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  inherit 
the  earth.'  These  are  assurances  that  should 
make  us  patient.  I  have  no  fear,  brother  ;  a 
good  work  will  yet  be  accomplished,  and  truth 
must  prevail." 

Mr.  Baker  already  felt  that  he  had  shown 
symptoms  of  indiscreet  zeal  before  his  co- 
worker.  He  now  appeared  more  satisfied. 
He  was  again  reassured,  and  his  wonted  confi 
dence  returned.  He  was  much  pleased  with 
Mr.  Capel's  words  and  modest  remarks,  and, 
like  him,  he  was  again  willing  to  trust  in  the 
Lord  rather  than  in  the  arm  of  flesh. 

"  Brother,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  in  the 
vineyard  of  the  Lord  for  a  long  time.  I  have 
often  witnessed  the  closing  scenes  of  life  and 
the  final  triumph  of  many  of  the  people  of 
God.  I  have  seen  them,  while  languishing  in 
their  Inst  moments,  bear  witness  for  the  truth. 
Then,  again.  I  have  seen  men  once  strong  in 
the  faith  fall — oh  !  to  what  a  depth — and 
pass  away  forever  in  the  whirlwind  of  un 
belief.  How  mysterious  are  the  dealings  of 
the  Almighty  I  Why  are  millions  still  left  in 
darkness  to  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge? 
Why  is  unbelief  yet  allowed  to  prevail? 
Why  are  not  all  saved?  What  a  number  of 


enemies  we  have  around  us  !  What  traitors 
we  meet  on  all  sides !  And  those  we  have  most 
to  dread  profess  to  belong  to  the  household  of 
faith,  to  believe  in  the  written  word,  yet  bring 
it  into  contempt.  Alas!  how  the  infidel  can 
laugh  at  Christianity.  Crowds  of  believers, 
and  crowds  contending  for  forms  and  cere 
monies  and  precedence.  Rome  anathematiz 
ing  England,  and  England  gloating  over  the 
degradation  of  Rome — one  desiring  to  usurp 
over  the  other.  The  so-called  Christian 
church  is  a  mystery  to  many.  Who  are  its 
members.  Are  the  numerous  sects  which  bit 
terly  denounce  each  other  deserving  of  that 
distinction  ?  Are  the  emissaries  of  the  Po 
pish  system  of  delusion  and  superstition  to  be 
acknowledged  as  such  ?  Should  the  credu 
lous  slaves  of  its  Greek  sister  be  set  down  as 
members?  What  are  we  to  call  those  who 
allow  the  rapacious  apostles  of  our  wealthy 
Church  Establishment  to  rule  over  them  ? 
Shall  we  include  as  members  all  who  cling  to 
Presbyterian  morality  and  its  election  and 
reprobation  ?  How  are  we  to  designate  the 
exclusionists  of  close  communion  and  immer 
sion  ?  What  are  Unitarians,  and  Trinitarians, 
and  Quakers,  and  Dunkers,  and  Universalists, 
and  the  fifty  other  sects  to  be  called  ?  Who 
are  the  real  exponents  of  the  true  faith  ? 
There  are  sectaries  of  every  degree,  many  of 
whom  have  in  turn  routed  and  persecuted 
each  other,  all  claiming  to  be  members  of  the 
true  church,  yet  nearly  all  differing  widely  in 
what  many  of  them  deem  essentials.  We 
may  talk  as  we  like  about  unity  of  spirit. 
Some  think  there  may  be  unity  in  diversity, 
and  diversity  in  unity;  but  experience  goes  to 
prove  disunity  in  contending  bodies,  and  a 
leaven  of  bitter  jealousy  working  through 
the  whole.  The  Evangelical  Alliance  prom 
ised  great  things  at  Exeter  Hall ;  but  where  is 
the  fulfillment  ?  And  what  is  our  own  Metho 
dism  ?  it  is  not  at  the  present  day  what  it 
once  was,  the  most  scriptural  of  all  systems. 
It  is  not,  alas !  what  it  ought  to  be.  Look, 
brother,  at  our  asjiiring  men,  and  at  our  con- 
nectional  hankering  and  ambition.  Our  Con 
ference  is  aiming  for  power  and  influence,  and 
wishes  to  make  its  oft  assumed  authority  felt 
and  recognized  outside  of  its  own  proper  lim 
its.  I  feel  that  Methodism  is  iast  drifting 
down  to  worloliness,  and  that  it  will  soon  be 
another  synonym  for  pomp  and  vanity.  It8 
love  for  money  is  unspeakable." 

"My  dear,"  replied  Mis.  Eaker,  "we  all 
know  that  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  rend  the 
heart;  God  alone  can  do  that.  At- piling  men 
have  no  doubt  entered  among  us,  and  have 
caused  heart-burnings  and  divisions  ;  but 
when  we  know  that  Satan  himself  will  some 
times  appear  like  an  angel  of  light  to  gain  hie 
own  ends,  when  we  find  pretended  friends 
in  our  midst,  our  duty  then  is  to  be  more  faith 
ful  ourselves.  Methodism  is  God's  right  hand 
in  the  salvation  of  men ;  it  is  a  rock  of 
strength:  though  it  has  enemits  within  and 
without,  and  though  many  on  the  side  of 
Church  and  dissent  would  unite  to-morrow  for 
its  downfall,  let  us  not  fear,  but  say — 

*  Come,  glorious  Lord,  the  rebels  ppnrn; 
Scatter  thy  foes,  victorious  King ; 


EXETER    HALL. 


23 


And  Gath  and  Askelon  shall  mourn, 
And  all  the  sons  of  God  shall  sing.1 

"  Well,  let  them  rejoice  when  it  happens. 
No  doubt  Satan  would  rejoice  over  the  down 
fall  of  our  beloved  Wesleyanism  also.  Yes, 
wife,  I  know  some  of  those  spouting  Protes 
tants — rank  dissenters,  too — who  profess  to  be 
ready  to  join  hands  with  us  for  the  conversion 
of  wild  Indians,  or  for  a  crusade  against  Eng 
lish  or  Romish  Popery,  and  who,  under  the 
pretense  of  Christian  love,  will  meet  and  coun 
sel  and  pray  with  us,  and  who  yet  would  at  the 
Bame  time  give  us  a  stab  in  the  dark  if  a 
chance  offered.  Yes,  I  know  them  ;  they  will 
fraterni/.o  with  us  on  a  public  platform,  they 
will  make  great  speeches  about  the  poor 
heathen,  and  about  missions,  and  Bibles,  and 
tracts,  and  temperance,  and  all  that,  but, 
bless  you !  they  are  merely  acting — they  hate 
us.  When  religious  teachers  enter  our  pul 
pits  and  dissemble  to  such  an  extent,  what 
can  we  expect  from  Papists  and  unbelievers? 
A  worthy  old  brother  once  whispered  to  me, 
when  we  were  seated  together  on  a  missionary 
platform,  and  after  we  had  heard  some  fine 
speeches  and  a  great  display  of  liberal  senti 
ments  from  the  reverend  representatives  of 
various  hostile  denominations  who  took  part 
on  the  occasion, '  Brother,'  said  he, '  I  thought 
I  knew  these  men,  but  I  see  every  man  has 
a  mask,  and  puts  it  on  before  he  addresses  the 
people.'  He  had  them  that  time." 

Just  then  there  was  a  rap  at  the  door  and  a 
note  was  handed  in  for  Mr.  Baker.  He  tore 
it  open  at  once,  and  after  looking  at  it  a  mo 
ment  read  aloud : 

"  A  meet  ing  of  the  Hampstead  Branch  Bible 
Society  will  be  held,  God  willing,  in  the 
Baptist  Church  on  Tuesday  evening  next. 
The  chair  will  be  taken  precisely  at  half-past 
seven  o'clock.  A  full  attendance  is  requested 
in  order  to  select  delegates  and  to  make  other 
preparatory  arrangements  in  view  of  the 
great  anniversary  meeting  to  be  held  next 
month  at  Exeter  Hall." 

When  Mr.  Baker  read  this  little  epistle,  he 
closed  his  left  eye  and  looked  down  thought 
fully  at  the  floor,  which  he  patted  smartly  at 
the  same  time  with  his  foot.  After  a  few  sec 
onds'  cogitation,  he  spoke  very  slowly,  as  if  to 
himself:  "  In  the  Baptist  Church,  on  Tuesday 
evening  next — very,  very  sharp  practice — 
very."  The  words  fell  from  his  lips  as  separate 
and  distinct  as  if  there  were  no  possible  connec 
tion  between  them — as  if  he  had  been  merely 
practicing  an  elocutionary  utterance. 

"  Now,  brother,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  recovering 
himself,  "  here  is  a  nice  little  plot,  dexterously 
managed  and  arranged,  to  keep  us  as  a  body 
in  the  background  ;  and  I  think  we  are  also 
indebted  to  the  supinen^ss  and  extra  liberality  j 
of  some  of  our  wise  mi  mbers  for  such  a  very 
agreeable  invitation,  if  this  is  not  a  happy 
illustration  of  the  sectarian  jealousy  which 
we  were  just  deploring,  it  is  a  very  forcible 
one,  and  not  at  all  pleasant  to  my  fee' ings.  I 
can  see.  through  it.  They  have  made  a  cat's 
paw  of  the  Baptists  to  put  the  Methodists  on 
the  shelf — that's  it.  I  understand  the  manosu- 
vre.  I  can  see  the  Presbyterian  finger  in  the 
pie  just  as  plainly  as  I  can  see  that  table.  If 
you  want  a  plotter  of  the  right  kind,  give  me 


one  of  your  moral,  smooth-faced  Free-Church 
men,  one  who  wears  a  continual  smile,  just  as 
attractive  to  some  as  the  glitter  of  a  serpent's 
eye  to  a  foolish  bird.  A  first-class  wire-puller 
always  smiles;  he  wears  an  appearance  of 
great  candor,  but  he  always  keeps  in  the 
background  and  will  not  show  his  hand  if  he 
can  help  it.  He  holds  the  wires ;  for  instance, 
he  pulls  one  for  the  Baptists,  and  another  for 
the  Independents,  and  one  for  some  other  sect 
or  creature  willing  to  fall  in  with  the  rest ; 
and  this  is  what  we  find  the  R'iv.  Andrew 
Campbell  of  the  Free  Church  has  just  been 
doing.  He  has  burrowed  pretty  deep  and 
thinks  to  hide  himself ;  but  I  will  unearth  Mm, 
and  that  before  he  is  aware  of  it." 

And  Mr.  Baker  rubbed  his  hands  in  eager 
anticipation  of  a  brush  with  his  reverend  an 
tagonist. 

"  Brother  Capel,"  he  continued,  "here  is  a 
plain  case  of  jealousy  and  dissembling  on  the 
part  of  a  man  who  claims  to  be  the  pastor  of  a 
most  exemplary  body  of  Presbyterians.  Last 
year,  a  minister  of  our  Society  was  appointed 
a  delegate  to  represent  our  Branch  Bible  So 
ciety  at  Exeter  Hall.  There  were  murmurs 
as  usual  from  several  of  Mr.  Campbell's  people, 
and  from  some  others  who  are  always  grum 
bling  at  the  Methodists,  but  he,  worthy  man  1 
appeared  to  be  quite  satisfied ;  indeed  he  said 
he  would  not  have  selected  any  other  person 
were  the  choice  left  to  himself.  So  far,  so 
good  ;  but  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks,  a  ru 
mor  was  heard  in  one  place-  and  in  another 
that  the  Methodists  had  succeeded  in  getting 
the  meeting  held  in  their  own  church,  and 
that  by  force  of  numbers  a  Methodist  dele 
gate  had  been  chosen  to  display  his  eloquence 
on  the  platform  at  Exeter  Hall.  After  a  little 
inquiry,  I  traced  this  report  direct  to  the  Rev 
erend  man  himself;  there  was  no  chance  for 
his  escape.  And  you  may  judge  of  my  aston 
ishment  when  he  told  me  to  my  face  at  a  com 
mittee  meeting  that  it  was  every  word  true ; 
that  he  never  denied  having  said  so,  and  that 
I  and  my  adherents  on  all  occasions  tried  to 
monopolize  certain  positions  before  the  public 
to  the  exclusion  of  better  men.  When  he  told 
me  this,  he  looked  no  more  shame-faced  than  a 
parson  who  was  pocketing  tithes.  With  such 
a  man,  it  was  useless  to  waste  words.  It 
would  be  very  unseemly  to  contend  witli  him 
before  a  committee.  I  withdrew  as  soon  as  I 
conveniently  could,  and  I  have  never  met  him 
since." 

"  The  feeling  that  Mr.  Campbell  has  toward 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Baker,  "has  influenced  many 
others  with  whom  we  were  formerly  on  terms 
of  friendship.  For  instance,  but  a  short  way 
from  this  house  there  are  two  maiden  sisters 
residing ;  they  used  to  visit  us  very  often,  and 
we  frequently  went  together  on  missionary 
tours  and  on  tract  collections.  They  were 
never,  to  be  sure,  very  warm  toward  us  as  a  so 
ciety,  but,  they  never  made  any  unkind  re 
marks  ;  they  are,  however,  members  of  Mr. 
Campbell's  congregation,  and  since  th«»  occur 
rence  at  the  committee  meeting  they  have 
never  entered  our  door,  and  if  I  happen  to  meet 
them  at  a  Dorcas  meeting  or  at  any  other  place, 
they  merely  give  me  a  formal  bow.  Why, 
bless  you  1  I  never  thgught  people  could  be  so 


24 


EXETER    HALL. 


uncharitable  as  we  now  find  many  of  the  Bap 
tists  and  Presbyterians." 

"  And  what  is  worse,"  urged  Mr.  Baker, 
"after  the  discreditable  conduct  of  Campbell, 
I  tried  to  keep  the  matter  as  quiet  as  possible. 
I  did  not  wish  to  let  it  be  known  around  that 
a  number  of  professing  Christians  who  had 
met  in  order  to  devise  ways  and  means  for  the 
circulation  of  the  Scriptures  had,  at  such  a 
meeting,  a  fierce  altercation  among  themselves. 
1  said  as  little  as  I  could  about  it ;  but  the  fol 
lowing  week  out  comes  the  Evangelist,  the 
newspaper  or  organ  of  the  Presbyterian  body, 
with  a  communication  denouncing  the  '  shab 
by  tricks'  (this  was  the  expression)  ''of  a  cer 
tain  Methodist  preacher,  whom  it  did  not 
name,  and  the  hypocritical  rabble  that  follow 
ed  at  his  heels,'  and  then  it  went  on  retailing 
the  current  scandal  about  the  appointment  of 
a  delegate.  To  this,  I  sent  a  contradictory  re 
ply,  with  certain  explanations  which  I  trusted 
would  not  be  offensive  ;  but  back  came  my 
manuscript ;  they  would  not  insert  any  thing  I 
had  written  ;  and  now  to  this  day  we  have  the 
greatest  trouble  to  keep  up  appearances  and 
prevent  another  outbreak  more  scandalous 
than  the  last.  You  know  in  the  course  of  the 
year  there  are  many  occasions  on  which  we 
have  to  meet.  Protestants  of  all  denomina 
tions,  with  the  exception  of  the  High  Church 
party,  profess  to  unite  their  efforts  at  Bible 
meetings  and  tract  meetings,  and  for  other 
objects  of  common  interest ;  but  lately  I  find 
it  hard  work  to  keep  my  temper  among  them, 
and  Vere  it  not  that  scoffers  might  triumph  I 
would  enjoy  far  more  peace  of  mind  by  stay 
ing  at  home,  like  our  pious,  prudent  friend, 
the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell." 

"  Scenes  like  this  you  have  described,"  said 
Mr.  Capel,  "  I  am  sorry  to  say,  have  been  wit 
nessed  in  other  places  than  this  neighborhood. 
The  very  first  year  I  was  on  a  circuit  we  had 
a  difficulty  nearly  in  the  same  way  with  the 
New  Connection  Methodists  :  1  hope  never  to 
witness  the  like  again.  What  happemd 
there  was  a  scandal  to  the  whole  church  for 
months  afterward;  I  would  be  ashamed  to 
mention  even  now  all  that  occurred." 

"  You  need  not  tell  me,  brother ;  I  think  I 
know  it  just  as  well  as  if  it  was  written  for 
me :  but  I  tell  you  now  that  before  you  are 
much  older,  yon  are  likely  to  be  present  at  a 
scene  which  may  altogether  surpass  any  you 
have  yet  witnessed.  We  shall  see  whether 
this  sleek,  jealous,  undermining  calumniator 
can  do  as  he  pleases,  even  protected  as  he  will 
be  by  the  streaming  walls  of  a  Baptist  Con 
venticle.  He  no  doubt  has  had  every  Presby 
terian  and  Baptist  and  Congregationalist  with 
in  his  reach  warned  to  attend ;  but  we  can 
play  the  same  game,  and  in  a  way  that  will 
open  their  eyes  and  make  their  lank  faces  a 
little  longer.  We  are  as  numerous  as  they 
are  altogether,  and  I  think  that  between  this 
and  Tuesday,  we  can  get  a  sufficient  number 
of  our  friends  to  vote  down  any  hostile  resolu 
tion,  and  turn  the  tables  on  them.  What  do 
you  say,  brother?  Don't  you  think  we  can 
succeed  ?" 

Mr.  Capel  was  very  reluctant  to  give  an 
opinion  ;  the  very  idea  of  another  scene  was 
not  relished  by  him.  He  did  not  wish  to  anti 


cipate  trouble ;  but  it  was  plain  to  him  that  Mr 
Baker  was  determined  to  enter  a  contest  and 
to  drag  him  into  it  also.  How  was  he  to  es 
cape  from  this?  The  thought  of  going  to  a 
public  meeting  called  for  the  ostensible  pur 
pose  of  promoting  the  circulation  of  the  word 
of  God,  and  then  and  there  to  enter  into  all 
the  arrangements  for  a  display  of  sectional 
strife  and  unholy  disunion,  was  painful ;  it 
was  actually  to  descend  from  liis  position  as  a 
preacher  of  peace  to  fraternize  with  men 
who  gave  way  to  angry  feelings.  He  was  verv 
much  perplexed.  In  the  short  period  of  hie 
ministerial  career,  he  had  had  sufficient  proof 
of  the  bitterness  and  animosity  that  existed 
between  sects.  It  was  to  him  astonishing  how 
preachers  and  people  loudly  boasting  of  a  re 
ligion  of  peace  and  love,  preaching  about  the 
"  unity  of  the  spirit,"  quoting  texts  about  the 
"  bonds  of  peace,"  and  almost  forever  talking 
and  writing  and  preaching  about  humility  and 
harmony  and  brotherly  love,  and  spending 
time  and  money  in  the  circulation  of  an  in 
spired  book  which  was  said  to  be  sufficient  to 
enlighten  all  to  the  way  of  virtue,  and  to  make 
"  the  wolf  and  the  lamb  feed  together,  and 
the  lion  eat  straw  like  a  bullock,"  and  yet 
to  find  these  very  people  who  were  always 
pitying  and  rebuking  the  heathen  and  the  un 
believing  and  the  ungodly,  as  willing  and  as 
ready  on  certain  occasions  to  indulge  hatred, 
engage  in  strife,  and  harbor  malice  as  the  veri 
est  barbarian  !  He  often  wondered  at  the  pomp 
ous  and  expensive  display  of  physical  force 
material  by  Christian  nations  and  people,  and 
of  their  readiness  for  battle  and  murder.  He 
contrasted  certain  acts  of  so-called  pious  mon- 
archs — the  profuse  shedding  of  human  blood 
— with  those  of  the  rulers  of  even  idolatrous 
people,  and  in  nearly  all  cases  he  was  forced 
to  decide  against  the  cruelty  of  Christian  po 
tentates,  and  to  admit  the  many  proofs  of  the 
superior  spirit  and  humanity  of  imperial 
heathenism — the  superiority  of  a  Julian  to  a 
Constantino.  But  to  think  that  the  "  people 
of  God"  should,  by  "  anger  and  clamor  and  evil- 
speaking,"  degrade  themselves  even  below 
those  that  knew  not  the  Lord  nor  his  word  ;  to 
think  that  those  who  openly  professed  re 
generation  should  by  controversial  brawls 
strengthen  the  position  of  the  scoffer,  was  to 
him  incomprehensible.  He  therefore  did  not 
wish  to  attend  such  a  meeting ;  but  how  was 
he  to  escape  ? 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Ca 
pel,  after  some  reflection.  "  I  would  far  rather 
let  these  people  have  their  own  way  than  that 
we  should  follow  in  their  footsteps  and  assist 
in  perpetuating  strife.  Of  what  consequence 
is  it  to  us  whether  a  Methodist  or  a  Baptist  or  an 
Independent  is  chosen  as  a  delegate?  The 
great  cause  of  Christianity  will  not  suffer,  or 
be  more  benefited  one  way  or  other  by  the  re 
sult.  I  therefore  think  that  our  wisest  plan 
will  be,  to  let  things  take  their  own  course  at 
the  meeting,  and  no  doubt  a  greater  good 
will  eventually  result." 

"  See  here,  brother  Capel,"  replied  Mr.  Baker, 
with  assumed  calmness,  "  such  sentiments 
may  do  very  well  with  persons  who  are  real 
and  true  Christians  ;  the  course  you  advise 
might  then  be  most  proper  toward  such  a 


EXETER    HALL, 


25 


;  but  remember  with  whom  we  have  to 
treat,  men  who  are  continually  endeavoring 
to  bring  our  church  and  our  discipline  into 
disrepute,  who  are  madly  jealous  of  our  suc 
cess,  and  who  now  try  to  lessen  us  in  the  esti 
mation  of  the  world. 

"  No  ;  in  this  matter  we  must  have  our  own 
way,  we  must  fight  them  with  their  own  weap 
ons — ay,  fight ;  the  strongest  will  be  sure  to 
win ;"  and  Mr.  Baker  quickly  snapped  his 
large  bony  fingers  in  defiance. 

"  Well,  as  for  myself,  brother  Baker,  I  am 
but  a  stranger  here  yet,  and  I  would  not  like 
to  make  my  first  appearance  as  a  partisan. 
If,  however,  you  think  it  right  for  me  to  attend, 
I  will  do  so ;  but  it  will  be  rather  to  throw  oil 
on  the  troubled  waters,  should  any  arise,  than 
allow  sectarian  distrust  and  alienation  to 
grow  stronger.  It  may  be  after  all,  brother, 
that  these  people  will  give  us  no  cause  to 
complain." 

"  Indeed.  I  hope  not.  It  would  be  a  great 
satisfaction^  very  agreeable  disappointment, 
were  I  to  discover  that  a  better  feeling  ex 
isted  ;  but  I  have  little  hope  of  that.  I  know 
them,  and  I  know  that  the  Calvinistic  crowd 
will  show  their  dark  faces  for  a  certainty. 
Yes,  I  am  doubtful  of  Campbell,  and,  as  you 
already  know,  not  without  cause.  And,  friend 
Capel,  you  must  recollect  that  at  the  present 
day,  when  we  find  outsiders  and  the  uncon 
verted  attracted  toward  a  religious  body  as 
much  on  account  of  its  reputed  standing  and 
influence  and  popularity — even  by  the  size 
and  grandeur  of  its  churches — as  by  its  in 
trinsic  piety  or  merit,  we  must  be  on  the  look 
out,  and,  in  a  worldly  sense,  catch  all  we  can. 
We  must  not  allow  our  denominational  inter 
ests  to  suffer  through  a  sentimental  diffidence, 
or  a  reluctance  to  enter  the  field  as  competi 
tors.  For  a  denominational  prize,  I  will  not 
shirk  enrollment  as  a  gladiator,  not  I ;  Greek 
to  Greek,  our  church  against  all  others. 
But,  brother,  we  will  talk  this  matter  over  to 
morrow ;  it  is  now  getting  late,  and  after  a 
word  of  prayer  we  will  retire." 

When  Mr.  Capel  was  left  alone  that  night, 
a  multitude  of  thoughts  crowded  upon  him, 
and  seemed  to  overturn  each  other  in  their 
struggle  for  precedence.  He  felt  unnerved  by 
an  utter  feeling  of  loneliness  and  despondency. 
He  had  but  lately  left  his  native  country,  Ire 
land,  and  was  now  for  the  first  time  among 
people  comparatively  unknown  to  him.  His 
father  had  been  dead  for  several  years,  and  he 
had  seen  within  the  last  fifteen  months  the  re 
mains  of  his  brother  and  mother  conveyed  to 
the  silent  grave  ;  he  had  now  scarcely  a  rela 
tive  living,  and  was  here  thrown  among 
strangers  to  follow  a  line  of  life  not  altogether 
in  accordance  with  his  own  feelings,  but  more 
out  of  a  dutiful  compliance  with  the  earnest 
and  affectionate  desires  of  a  pious  mother. 
Previous  to  her  death,  he  had  traveled  nearly 
a  year  on  a  circuit  near  the  city  of  Cork,  in  Ire 
land  ;  and  he  had  recently  been  advised  by  cer 
tain  friends  to  offer  his  services  to  the  English 
Conference.  He  came  highly  recommended, 
and  the  district  chairman  being  anxious  to 
supply  the  wants  of  a  few  places  on  the  out 


skirts  of  London  sent  Mr.  Capel  for  a  few 
months  under  the  superintendence  of  Mr 
Baker  until  the  next  meeting  of  Conference 
No  wonder  then  that  his  thoughts  came  fast, 
and  that,  from  what  he  had  just  heard,  he  waa 
nearly  bewildered  with  strange  ideas  about 
contending  sects  and  inconsistent  teachers ; 
about  the  sordid  and  unholy  motives  which 
seemed  to  actuate  preachers  as  well  as  people. 
He  was  surprised  at  the  vehemence  of  Mr. 
Baker,  with  whom  he  had  but  lately  become 
acquainted.  He  thought  of  the  strange  mis 
sion  that  was  to  be  imposed  on  him  by  a  re 
sidence  at  Heath  Cottage,  and  he  tried  to 
faricy  what  kind  of  a  person  Martin  Mannors 
could  be,  of  whom  Mr.  Baker  spoke  so  bitter 
ly — of  whose  impure  and  dangerous  senti 
ments  he  had  heard  so  much.  Already  he  be 
gan  to  feel  a  distaste  for  his  mission,  and  a 
prejudice  against  a  person  whom  he  had  never 
yet  seen,  and  whom  it  was  expected  he  might 
enlighten. 

But  his  own  heart  told  him  that  such  a  pre 
judice  was  unfair,  unmanly,  and  unjust,  and 
he  tried  to  banish  the  feeling  with  all  hia 
might.  He  disliked  controversy,  particularly 
when  called  upon  to  combat  opinions  against 
divine  revelation.  He  could  not  rely  upon, 
his  own  strength  with  a  wily  adversary.  He 
never  doubted  scriptural  truth ;  but  even  to 
him,  as  well  as  to  others,  there  were  things  in 
the  Bible  hard  to  be  understood,  but  which 
he  believed  would  be  made  plain  "in  the 
great  day  of  the  Lord."  He  felt  a  deep  sym 
pathy  for  Mrs.  Mannors ;  and  in  humble  confi 
dence  would  strive  to  remove  the  mountain 
of  unbelief  that  overshadowed  her  dwelling. 
He  would  simply  do  his  best  to  establish  di 
vine  truth ;  and  if  he  failed,  God  would  not 
judge  hm  for  neglect.  He  would  take  up  this 
cross  ;  and  if  he  succeeded,  would  he  not  bring 
happiness  to  one  home,  and  would  not  his 
mother  in  heaven  rejoice  with  the  vast  as 
sembly  of  saints  at  the  repentance  of  a  sin 
ner,  and  whose  conversion  he  might  after 
ward  claim  as  a  seal  to  his  ministry  ? 

The  mild  moon  was  shining  through  his 
window  as  he  looked  out,  and  her  soft,  sympa 
thizing  light  brought  back  the  most  tender 
recollections.  Memory  presented  its  fairest 
pictures,  and  the  dim  scene  in  the  distance  waa 
changed  in  imagination  to  his  own  still  loved 
home.  He  heard  his  mother's  evening  hymn, 
and  again  he  saw  his  little  fired  brother  sit 
sleeping  by  her  side.  In  imagination  he  stood 
once  more  upon  the  pleasant  banks  of  the 
river  Lee,  and  wandered  away  among  the 
green  meadows  by  its  margin  ;  he  saw  the 
well  known  tall  trees,  and  their  long  shadows 
on  its  shining  water.  He  looked  again  ;  but 
that  home  had  faded  with  the  past ;  the  dear 
ones  had  fled,  and  the  pure  love  of  that  moth 
er's  eye  would  be  seen  no  more  forever.  In 
his  dreams,  that  night  he  again  heard  the 
sweet  sounds  of  the  Bells  of  Shandon,  and 
again  he  saw  the  waters  of  the  pleasant  riv 
er  ;  but  before  he  awoke,  he  was  once  more 
standing  and  weeping  by  his  mother's  grave, 
hand  in  hand  with  his  tired  brother,  in  the 
old  churchyard  of  St.  Finn  Bar. 


EXETER    HALL. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  church  in  which  the  Rev.  Andrew 
Campbell  officiated  was  situated  on  the  high 
road  between  London  and  Hampstead,  rather 
closer  to  the  city.  Indeed,  speaking  more  cor 
rectly,  it  might  be  said  to  be  within  the  sub 
urbs*  which  every  year  stretch  out  farther  and 
farther.  His  pastoral  charge,  however,  includ 
ed  a  very  extensive  district  and  extended  to  the 
north  as  far  as  Hampstead.  The  church  was 
therefore  in  a  central  situation,  and  was  very 
convenient  not  only  for  the  regular  ministra 
tions,  but  for  the  occasional  transaction  of 
other  matters  affecting  the  interests  of  the  de 
nomination  to  which  it  belonged.  It  was  also 
a  very  suitable  place  for  clerical  reunions,  and 
for  small  private  meetings  of  such  of  the 
ministers,  elders,  and  deacons  of  other  reli 
gious  bodies  as  understood  each  other,  and  who 
were  prepared  to  fraternize  and  form  a  com 
pact  against  the  encroachments  of  a  sectarian 
enemy.  At  these  quiet  conventions,  a  great 
many  plans  were  matured,  and  when  any  im 
portant  object  was  to  be  attained,  a  special 
meeting  could  be  easily  held  at  the  shortest 
notice. 

In  old  times,  to  be  sure,  before  the  establish 
ment  of  Methodism,  the  Presbyterians  in  and 
about  London  formed  a  very  strong  body  of 
Christians,  who,  with  the  additional  force  of 
other  dissenters  and  non-conformists  were  often 
very  successful  in  their  attacks  on  the  proud 
pretensions  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  For 
many  years,  the  united  efforts  of  these  bodies 
were  mainly  directed  against  the  Establish 
ment,  which,  like  a  leviathan,  was  confident 
of  its  own  strength,  and  satisfied  with  its  en 
vied  position  as  a  national  institution.  But  in 
the  course  of  time,  when  Methodism  raised  its 
head  and  became  a  power  on  the  earth,  a  "  lit 
tle  horn  which  waxed  exceeding  great,"  those 
bodies  discovered  in  it  an  insidious  and  danger 
ous  intruder ;  one  most  likely  to  attract  the 
common  people,  and,  therefore,  more  to  be 
feared  than  the  old  State  Church  which  was 
fast  losing  ground  in  popular  affection.  The 
great  policy  of  the  Church  Establishment 
eeemed  to  be  the  acquisition  of  wealth  and  po 
litical  power,  and  as  long  as  that  object  was 
secured,  it  was  not  of  so  much  importance  as 
to  the  number  Saf  its  adherents ;  wealth  and 
power  will  always  attract  followers  enough  to 
secure  for  the  grossest  usurpation  and  tyran 
ny  a  spurious  popularity.  As  long  as  the 
church  had  the  monarch  and  a  majority  of  the 
nobility  and  great  men  of  the  nation,  and  as 
long  as  its  status  of  superiority  was  legally  ac 
knowledged,  the  English  hierarchy  were  quite 
indifferent  as  to  the  clamorings  of  disappoint 
ed  and  disaffected  aspirants. 

But  Methodism  was  a  power  that  made  it- 
Belf  felt.  From  small  beginnings,  it  gradu 
ally  grew  and  gained  strength  ;  stooping  to 
conquer,  and  leaving  nothing  undone  to  gain 
the  multitude.  At  last  it  strode  out  like  a 
pampered  giant,  lifting  in  its  brawny  arms  first 
the  poor  and  illiterate,  then  impulsive  working 
men  and  traders,  then  the  more  intelligent 
and  worldly  wise— class  above  class — until 


finally,  bearing  its  head  aloft,  it  entered  with 
stately  step  the  palace  of  the  people,  and 
placed  its  representatives  on  the  floor  of  the 
imperial  parliament. 

This  was  a  power,  then,  to  be  dreaded.  In 
little  more  than  a  century,  from  an  insignifi 
cant  sect  it  had  gained  such  a  footing  in  Bri 
tain  as  to  leave  nearly  all  other  denominations 
completely  in  the  shade.  Churches  that  for 
centuries  had  stood  the  successive  assaults  of 
Popery  and  Prelacy  now  became  more  and 
more  forsaken  and  desolate ;  and  the  once  popu 
lar  preachers  of  the  metropolis  had  often  to  de 
liver  their  lengthy  and  somniferous  expositions 
to  bare  walls  and  empty  seats,  while  Wesley 
and  Whitfield  were  followed  from  place  to 
place,  and  could  only  accommodate  increasing 
and  excited  multitudes  by  winning  them  to 
Christ  under  the  great  cathedral  vault  of 
heaven. 

It  was  difficult,  indeed,  for  ordinary  human 
nature  to  stand  this.  It  was  not  easy  to  feel 
indifferent,  and  see  your  household  scattered  ; 
to  see  the  children  you  had  nurtured  and 
trained  from  lisping  infancy  leave  you  in 
their  sturdy  manhood,  and  give  to  strangers 
the  comfort  and  support  to  which  you  consid 
ered  yourself  entitled  by  the  natural  ties  of 
spiritual  consanguinity. 

But,  it  might  be  said,  what  difference  did  it 
make,  if  the  children  about  whom  you  were 
so  anxious  were  now  receiving  an  abundance 
of  every  thing  necessary,  and  were  plentifully 
supplied  with  bread  of  a  better  quality  than 
that  perhaps  which  you  yourself  had  to  offer  ; 
what  difference  did  it  make  if  you  were  desi 
rous  to  start  them  in  life  with  a  certain 
amount  of  capital,  and  that  another  person 
came  forward  and  generously  granted  them  a 
sum  greater  than  your  limited  means  could 
insure — what  was  the  difference  ? 

This  mode  of  reasoning  might  satisfy  some, 
but  if  you  were  doubtful  of  the  quantity  of 
nutriment  your  children  were  getting  ;  if  you 
were  dissatisfied  as  to  the  quality  of  bread, 
or  had  discovered  by  your  own  testing  that  it 
contained  a  subtle  poison  which  would  pro 
duce  drivelling  idiocy,  or  a  desire  lor  death ; 
or  if  you  believed  that  instead  of  their  being 
the  recipients  of  a  liberal  allowance,  they 
were  but  meagrely  fed,  and  while  busy,  la 
boring,  handed  to  strangers  the  wages  of 
their  toil  which  you  needed  so  much  yourself; 
if  you  saw  this,  and  could  see  your  children 
pass  you,  and  even  disown  you,  would  there 
not  be  a  feeling  of  resentment  against  the 
obtruder  ? 

It  was  from  this  stand-point  that  Methodism 
was  j  udged  by  the  older  sects  to  which  the 
people  were  once  so  much  attached ;  and  it 
required  more  grace  and  patience  than  had 
yet  been  bestowed  to  become  reconciled  to 
the  rule  of  such  specious  pretenders. 

Policy,  however,  demanded  great  caution  in 
making  an  attack  on  a  system  which  had  al 
ready  obtained  such  a  hold  on  the  populai 
mind ;  the  approaches  should  be  made  with 
secrecy.  It  would  not  do  to  array  powerful 
texts,  and  openly  denounce  its  anti-scriptural 
teachings  with  regard  to  election  and  predes 
tination  and  backsliding ;  it  would  not  do  tc 
speak  too  rudely  about  its  unlearned  preach 


EXETER    HALL. 


27 


ere  and  their  noisy  harangues,  their  pulpit 
shouting,  or  their  wild,  absurd,  and  maddening 
protracted  meetings.  Religion  has  at  all 
times  best  succeeded  when  the  feelings  were 
enlisted  in  its  favor ;  and  if  the  Methodists 
were  so  eminently  successful  by  sucli  strate 
gy,  a  reserve  in  denouncing  their  peculiar 
mode  might  be  most  prudent.  In  the  course 
of  time,  the  most  excitable  people  would  begin 
to  reason,  and  reason  would  bring  reflection, 
and  reflection,  even  in  such  matters,  might 
bring  common  sense.  If  a  man  becomes  infat 
uated,  it  is  not  always  the  best  way  to  set  him 
right  by  force  of  ridicule ;  opportunities  would 
arise  when  a  blow  could  be  struck  without 
observation ;  there  was  even  then  a  Metho 
dist  schism,  several  branches  had  been  lopped 
off  the  parent  tree,  and  the  disinterested 
hand  of  apparent  sympathy  might  be  extend 
ed  .to  these  scions  without  evincing  too  great 
a  desire  to  increase  the  rupture  or  advance  se 
cession. 

Thus  thought  many  of  the  principal  men 
of  the  older  sects ;  and  they  acted  accord 
ingly.  There  was  the  usual  display  of  cour 
tesy,  pulpits  were  exchanged,  there  were  union 
prayer  meetings,  and  fraternization  at  public 
meetings  ;  there  was  the  mutual  denunciation 
of  Popery,  and  the  tacit  understanding  against 
the  High  Church  ;  and, therefore,  while  on  the 
surface  every  thing  looked  calm  and  pleasant, 
there  was  in  reality  a  working  of  deep  de 
signs,  and  a  determination,  when  opportunity 
offered,  of  detracting  and  humiliating  the 
rampant  Methodism  of  the  day. 

(Jn  the  evening  before  the  meeting  which 
Mr.  Baker  was  notified  to  attend,  there  was  a 
special  reunion  in  Mr.  Campbell's  church  of 
most  of  the  principal  ministers  and  official 
members  of  the  Presbyterian,  Baptist  and 
Congregational  churches,  and  of  one  or  two 
minor  sects.  Besides  the  usual  number  of 
ministers,  deacons,  and  elders,  there  were  also 
some  of  the  great  ones  present  on  the  occasion. 
Dr.  Theophilus  Buster,  moderator  of  the 
General  Assembly,  attended  ;  so  did  the  Rev. 
Caleb  Howe,  a  distinguished  preacher  and 
administrator  of  the  Baptists ;  there  were  also 
the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  of  the  Independents,  and 
some  of  the  most  shrewd  and  active  members 
of  other  denominations. 

Dr.  Buster,  the  moderator,  was  sitting  at  the 
end  of  a  large  table  near  the  vestry  door,  and 
three  or  four  ministers  sat  close  by,  exclusive 
ly  engaged  on  some  subject  of  importance. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  disagreement ;  for  occa 
sionally  a  fist  would  come  down  on  the  table 
with  sufficient  force  to  attract  the  attention  of 
other  persons  dispersed  in  twos  and  threes  in 
different  parts  of  the  church.  The  discussion 
at  the  table  related  to  some  plan  which  was 
to  be  submitted  to  all  present  that  evening, 
and  seemed  to  keep  the  reverend  debaters 
somewhat  restless ;  while  the  mutter  of  con 
versation  around  indicated  a  probable  differ 
ence  of  opinion  on  the  subject  which  then  en 
gaged  attention. 

An  indifferent  looker-on  that  evening  would 
have  readily  discovered  that  even  the  select 
ministers  there  assembled  were  not  of  one 
mind  ;  and  that  within  the  very  precincts  of 
Mr.  Campbell's  sanctuary  all  was  not  har 


mony.  Faint  whispers,  those  shadovs  of 
thought,  after  awhile  gave  way  to  loud  words 
which  followed  faster  and  faster  from  the  lips 
of  excited  men.  Away  from  the  rest,  two  dea 
cons  sat  astride  of  a  form,  and  facing  each 
other;  they  had  once  been  members  of  the 
Close  Communion  Church  under  the  pastorate 
of  the  Rev.  Caleb  Howe  ;  but  recently,  one  of 
the  deacons  became  more  liberal,  and  allied 
himself  to  the  Open  Communionists.  For  this 
he  was  eluded  by  his  more  steadfast  and  con 
servative  brother ;  there  was  a  lively  contro 
versy  for  a  time,  and  a  grand  flourish  of  texts 
in  attack  and  defense  of  their  different  views. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  John,"  said  the  steadfast 
deacon,  "  you  left  us  because  you  had  itching 
ears,  and  wanted  to  hear  novelties.  The  Scrip 
tures  are  plain  and  positive  on  the  subject  of 
my  belie*,  and  any  who  will  not  conform  to 
the  strict  letter  of  the  law  have  neither  part 
nor  lot  in  the  matter.  '  Come  out  from  among 
them,  and  be  ye  separate,'  is  the  command, 
and  you  know  it,  John,  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  And  why  don't  you  keep  separate  1"  re 
plied  the  other.  "  The  Regular  Baptists  show 
the  same  inconsistency  that  you  do  now. 
Here  you  are  among  unbelievers  in  one  of 
your  very  essentials — ready  to  take  counsel 
from  them  and  advise  with  them  upon  clmrch 
matters  ;  and  yet  you  believe  that  the  major 
ity  present,  because  they  differ-in  opinion  with 
you,  are  outside  of  the  pale,  and  unregener- 
ate.  Tut,  man,  if  I  didn't  think  these  people 
fit  to  sit  with  me  at  the  table  of  the  Lord,  I 
would  keep  clear  of  them  altogether.  I  have 
read  and  re-read  the  tract  of  the  great  Robert 
Hall  on  your  illiberal  Close  Communion ;  he 
was  a  true  Baptist,  and  I  well  remember  his 
words.  He  wrote,  '  It  is  too  much  to  expect 
an  enlightened  public  will  be  eager  to  enroll 
themselves  among  the  members  of  a  sect 
which  displays  much  of  the  intolerance  of 
Popery.'  These  were  the  deliberate  words 
of  that  saint ;  get  over  them  if  you  can." 

"  Ay  ;  but  Robert  Hall,  the  saint  as  you  call 
him,  wasn't  gospel,"  said  one  ot  a  few  listen 
ers  who  had  gathered  around  the  pair  of  dea 
cons  ;  "  neither  was  he  what  I  would  wish  P 
man  to  be  who  pretended  to  continue  'stead 
fast  and  immovable.' " 

"  There  was  no  pretense  about  him,  friend  : 
you  haven't  a  man  among  you,  at  any  rate, 
that  is  his  equal,"  replied  another 

"I  think,"  said  a  Presbyterian  brother, 
siding  with  the  defender  of  Mr.  Hall,  "  J 
think  that  man  was  an  honor  to  this  age ; 
and  although  I  entirely  differ  from  his  opinioo 
as  to  what  Christian  baptism  ought  to  be,  h< 
was  a  man  of  free  mind  and  made  of  the 
right  kind  of  stuff.  If  a  person  finds  himself 
in  error,  he  ought  not  to  be  called  inconsistent 
because  he  is  willing  to  be  set  right,  and  then 
sticks  to  what  he  has  proved  to  be  truth." 

"  Eh,  now,  friend,  but  that's  a  strange  view 
to  take,"  said  the  steadfast  man.  "  I  doubt  if 
ever  any  one  who  had  the  witness  of  the 
Spirit  would  be  so  ready  to  change  his  opinion 
at  every  hand's  turn  as  to  the  meaning  of  the 
plain  command  of  God.  Robert  Hall's  belief 
as  to  how  baptism  ought  to  be  administered 
was  right  enough  ;  but  when  he  advocated 
open  communion  with  the  supporters  of  infant 


28 


EXETER    HALL. 


sprinkling,  he  was  wrong.  We  can't  budge  a 
peg  from  the  true  word  ;  nay,  man,  we  have  no 
right  to  recognize  people  as  worthy  communi 
cants  who  have  not  been  properly  baptized." 

"  Infant  sprinkling !  Well,  do  you  mean  to 
say,"  retorted  the  other,  "  that  any  Christian 
man  who  has  not  been  thrust  under  water 
like  a  gaping  duck  has  not  received  the  prop 
er  baptismal  rite  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  to  my 
face  that  I  am  not  yet  baptized  ;  I,  who  was 
sprinkled  by  the  great  Doctor  Chalmers  him 
self  even  before  I  was  a  week  old  ?" 

"  I  mean,  friend,  that  unless  we  are,  accord 
ing  to  Coloseians  the  2d  and  12th,  buried 
with  him  in  baptism,  we  will  be  buried  in  the 
earth  without  it.  A  mere  fillip  of  mist  in  the 
face  may  do  for  Methodists  and  such  Papist- 
like  folk,  but  will  never  do  for  men  who  wish 
to  conform  to  the  plain  word — never,  man." 

"  Ah,  mon  !  but  yee're  delooded !"  struck  in 
an  irritated  North  Briton,  "  ye  wad  twist  an 
twist  the  scriptur  to  suit  yoursel.  Wha  merit 
hae  ye  in  a  ploonge  aboon  a  sprinkle?  ye 
hae  nae  mickle.  Why  the  poorest  body  o'  a 
Mithodist  wad  sniffle  a'  that." 

A  Congregationalist  brother  now  came  to 
the  rescue  of  the  church  of  John  Knox,  and 
insisted  that  the  language  used  against  infant 
baptism  was  not  what  might  be  expected 
from  any  person  who  knew  any  thing  of 
divine  grace.  Jt  ill  became  a  set  of  sour, 
deluded  divers  at  the  present  day  to  cast  a 
reflection  on  the  descendants  of  men  who  had 
shed  their  blood  for  the  truth.  It  was  a  proof 
that  the  baptism  of  which  they  boasted  so 
loudly  was  not  sufficient  to  bestow  that 
charity  that  '  thinketh  no  evil  ;'  and  as  the 
brother  grew  warmer  on  the  subject,  his  decla 
mation  became  stronger. 

At  this  stage  of  the  discussion,  there  was 
quite  an  excitement,  and  it  was  apparent  that 
any  thing  but  a  religious  feeling,  or  even  a 
desire  to  exhibit  ordinary  forbearance,  was 
manifested  by  a  large  majority  of  those  pres 
ent.  By  this  time,  a  few  of  the  ministers  had 
approached,  and  stood  here  and  there,  outside 
the  circle  of  heads  that  surrounded  the  origi 
nal  combatants ;  and  while  the  deacons  and 
their  respective  adherents  still  hotly  contend 
ed,  the  ministers  took  sides,  and  from  their 
winks,  nods,  and  gestures  of  impatience,  it 
might  be  only  reasonable  to  infer  that  some 
thing  more  serious  than  an  ordinary  alterca 
tion  would  ensue  unless  a  stop  were  put  to 
the  gross  irregularity  of  a  few  hot-headed 
men.  It  would  be  a  curious  thing,  indeed,  to 
see  the  validity  of  a  religious  doctrine  tested 
within  the  very  walls  of  a  church  by  a  resort 
to  physical  force,  or  by  a  display  of  the  barba 
rous  science  of  the  trained  athletes  so  disgust 
ingly  detailed  in  Sell's  Life.  .There  would 
be  a  nice  winding  up  of  this  little  reunion  of 
select  saints,  if  may  be  the  moderator  himself 
had  to  leave  the  sacred  edifice  with  a  bandage 
over  his  eye,  or  his  arm  in  a  sling.  What 
an  example  for  unbelievers !  and  what  hosan- 
nas  would  be  sung  alike  by  High  Church 
and  Papist !  What  heart-breaking  comments 
would  be  conspicuously  printed  in  the  Metho 
dist  Watchman  of  the  ensuing  week  I  It 
would  never  do.  Baptists  and  Pedobaptists, 


and  all  others  engaged  must  at  once  give  up 
the  unseemly  strife,  and  turn  their  attention 
to  the  common  enemy. 

An  announcement  was  made  that  the  mod 
erator  desired  to  make  a  few  remarks  on  the 
present  aspect  of  affairs,  in  relation  to  the  posi 
tion  and  prospects  of  the  denominations  repre 
sented  by  the  persons  present,  and  to  devise 
means  whereby  a  greater  union  could  be  estab 
lished  between  themselves,  in  order  to  expose 
the  errors  and  spiritual  delinquencies  of  an  as 
piring  sect,  and  to  prove  that  its  pretended  zeal 
was  not  so  much  for  the  glory  of  God  as  for 
the  honor  and  emolument,  particularly  of  its 
clerical  adherents. 

An  intimation  to  this  effect  was  made  in  a 
hurried  manner  by  one  of  the  elders,  who, 
while  speaking,  kept  extending  and  closing 
his  arms,  and  gently  thrusting  himself  be 
tween  some  who  still  stood  their  ground,  as 
if  indifferent  to  any  thing  else  but  the  merits 
of  the  particular  mode  of  baptism  which  they 
had  been  advocating.  By  dint  of  patience, 
however,  and  by  giving  the  wink  of  fellow 
ship  to  one,  and  a  confidential  nudge  to  an 
other,  and  by  the  gentle  force  of  a  few  of  the 
more  sensible  and  discreet  of  the  brethren, 
the  principals  were  separated,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  nearly  all  were  found  either  seated  or 
standing  in  front  of  the  table  occupied  by  the 
moderator  and  ministers ;  but  although  a 
truce  was  thus  obtained,  it  could  be  easily 
perceived  from  the  number  of  excited  eyes, 
and  from  certain  flushed  faces,  and  by  the 
lingering  looks  of  defiance  that  passed  from 
one  to  another,  that  the  troubled  waters  had 
not  yet  fully  subsided. 

The  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell,  minister  of  St. 
Andrews  Church,  in  which  the  present  little 
assembly  met,  was  a  stout,  low-sized  man,  evi 
dently  well  fed.  He  had  a  florid  face  and  red 
dish  hair ;  he  wore  spectacles  over  a  pair  of 
very  prominent  eyes,  and  his  countenance  in 
dicated  no  very  marked  intelligence.  There 
was,  as  had  been  once  observed,  a  kind  of  cleri 
cal  sheepishness  about  his  looks  which  his  re 
puted  learning  could  not  qualify  ;  but  as  he 
had  been  indoctrinated  into  the  complexities  of 
Calvinism  at  an  early  age,  and  had  the  train 
ing  necessary  to  enable  him  as  a  Presbyterian 
teacher  to  explain  passages  of  scripture  in  sup 
port  of  that  belief,  he  was  ever  ready  to  com 
bat  antagonistic  opinions,  and  was  stubborn 
enough  to  retain  his  own  views  at  any  sacri 
fice,  even  against  the  many  contradictory 
texts  to  be  found  in  the  Bible  in  support  of 
opposite  tenets. 

Nearly  in  front  of  this  favored  pastor  sat 
the  Rev.  Caleb  Howe,  the  Baptist  minister  ;  he 
was  a  little  taller  and  a  great  deal  thinner  than 
his  clerical  brother  of  St.  Andrews ;  he,  too, 
wore  spectacles,  but  they  were  slightly  shaded 
and  it  was  no  doubt  uncharitably  said,  that 
they  were  worn  as  much  to  hide  the  "  caet"  in 
one  of  his  eyes  as  to  be  of  assistance  to  his  vis 
ion.  He  was  mild  in  appearance,  and  one  would 
imagine  of  a  constitution  too  delicate  to  ad 
minister  a  spiritual  bath  to  another  without 
injury  to  himself.  Notwithstanding,  however, 
the  little  rumpus  that  had  just  taken  place, 
he  seemed  to  be  in  no  way  disconcerted,  but  wai 


EXETER    HALL. 


now  just  as  ready  for  oilier  business  as  he 
would  have  been  to  defend  his  idea  of  the 
proper  baptismal  rite,  were  it  necessary. 

Then,  there  was  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall,  the 
Independent  minister.  He  was  known  as  one 
of  the  most  popular  preachers  in  London, 
rather  humorous  occasionally,  and  his  pulpit 
jokes  were  retailed  far  and  wide,  while  his 
church  was  generally  filled  with  the  most 
select  and  fashionable  of  congregations.  He 
was  a  wiry,  determined-looking  man,  alter 
nately  affected  by  pride  and  humility  ;  but  in 
defense  of  the  faith,  one  upon  whom  you 
might  rely,  and  one  who  was  ever  ready  to 
back  his  opinions,  either  by  words  or  blows,  or 
in  any  other  manner  most  convenient  to  an 
opponent. 

The  other -ministers  were  unobtrusive  look 
ing  persons,  connected  with  small  sects,  yet 
meix  who  felt  that  their  spiritual  authority 
WRK  something  to  be  recognized  ;  and  some 
of  the  elders  and  deacons  were  sufficiently 
belligerent  in  aspect  to  justify  the  conclusion, 
that  in  a  moral  combat,  not  to  go  any  further, 
you  might  rely  on  them  as  being  steadfast 
and  uncompromising.  One  could,  however, 
observe  that  most  of  the  person-*  just  referred 
to,  particularly  the  ministers,  tried  to  appear 
very  mild  and  courteous,  and  such  was  their 
ordinary  address,  unless  agitated  by  doctrinal 
disputes,  which  it  seemed  were  too  often 
prevalent,  even  among  the  reputed  heralds  of 
peace. 

But  the  individual  considered  the  most  im 
portant  personage  present  that  evening  was 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Theophilus  Buster,  who,  by  spe 
cial  request,  favored  the  brethren  with  his  pres 
ence  ;  and  with  a  few  exceptions  all  within  the 
church  paid  him  the  greatest  deference  and 
attention.  He  was  a  very  tall  man,  portly 
and  pompous  in  appearance  ;  he  stood  erect, 
and  his  height  seemed  to  be  increased  by  the 
manner  in  which  his  coarse  bristly  hair  was 
brushed  up  from  his  low  receding  forehead. 
He  certainly  wished  to  be  considered  a  person 
of  no  ordinary  importance,  and  he  used  all 
the  recognized  airs  to  make  that  impression. 
He  wore  a  suit  of  the  deepest  clerical  black, 
cut  and  fitted  in  the  most  approved  style ; 
a  neck-cloth  of  spotless  white  was  wound 
around  his  stout  neck  in  such  a  manner  as  if 
intended  to  splice  his  head  to  his  body  more 
securely  ;  an  exceedingly  white  pair  of  shirt 
wrists  peeped  out  below  h's  coat  sleeves,  and 
though  the  severe  look  of  his  cold  grey  eye 
was  not  obscured  by  spectacles,  yet  there  was 
pendant  from  his  neck  a  rich  gold-mounted 
eye-glass  attached  to  a  plain  black  ribbon  ; 
this  ornament  must  have  added  much  to  his 
dignity  ;  for  when  he  gave  one  of  his  many 
formal  bows,  the  little  glistening  glass  would 
tip  against  the  chain  of  his  gold  repeater,  and 
make  a  tinkling  sound,  like  that  which  in 
some  places  might  be  expected  to  announce 
the  coming  of  some  great  high  priest. 

Then  his  clerical  attitude  was  most  perfect 
— perfect  dignity.  His  head  and  shoulders 
were  thrown  back,  and  his  thumbs  inserted 
into  the  arm-holes  of  his  smoothly  fitting  vest 
giving  to  his  soft  open  hand  on  each  side,  the 
appearance  of  a  rudimentary  wing,  which 
might  be  supposed  to  indicate  a  preparation 


|  for  his  final  flight  from  the  pomps  and  vani 
ties  of  this  world  to  a  more,  exalted  sphere  of 
labor. 

He  was  dignified  ;  not  a  smile  cheered  the 
sage  serenity  of  his  countenance.  He  was 
superbly  demure,  and  in  nearly  every  other 
respect  fitted  to  make  a  profound  impression 
on  the  ordinary  race  of  believers.  From  his 
tact  and  finesse  in  the  pulpit,  he  won  the  re 
ligious  affections  of  his  congregation — the 
ladies  in  particular  were  enraptured — and  by 
such  means  his  church  became  crowded  with 
admiring  worshipers,  and  his  pews  were 
let  at  exorbitant  rates,  the  gross  rental  being 
annually  a  very  large  sum.  He  was  also  im 
mensely  popular  with  his  more  wealthy  hear 
ers  ;  and  by  his  courtesy  and  address  toward 
his  ministerial  brethren,  by  his  advocacy  of 
sound  Calvinistic  views,  and  demand  for  a 
puritanical  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  he 
won  his  way  until  he  attained  the  impor 
tant  position  as  moderator  of  the  General 
Assembly. 

Dr.  Buster's  influence  with  the  ladies  of  hig 
flock  partly  arose  from  another  cause  ;  he  was 
laboring  under  a  painful  difficulty,  of  a  do 
mestic  nature.  Thoroughly  orthodox,  he 
could  never  sanction  any  under  his  control  to 
interpret  Scripture  so  as  to  conflict  with  his 
ideas  ;  and  while  he  abhorred  a  schismatic,  he 
seemed  to  exult  in  pronouncing  a  dreadful 
woe  against  any  unfortunate  who  dared  to 
doubt  a  single  passage  of  the  word  of  God. 
Strange  to  say.  his  own  wife  differed  from  him. 
Her  mind  had  been  cast  in  a  different  mould 
from  his  ;  she  was  highly  intelligent,  liberal 
in  opinion,  and  benevolent,  and  could  not  be 
forced  to  believe  contrary  to  her  convictions. 
She  was  not  sufficiently  passive  to  be  the  wife 
of  a  minister ;  she  would  make  no  empty 
formal  profession ;  and  this  independence  of 
thought  and  action  highly  exasperated  the 
doctor,  and  ultimately  led  to  alienation,  and 
systematic  persecution.  Of  this,  she  was  at 
last  forced  to  complain  ;  but  the  doctor  won 
the  sympathy  of  true  believers.  He  made  af 
fecting  private  appeals  to  many  of  the  chief 
men,  and  to  some  of  the  admiring  women, 
who  were  spiritually  fed  by  his  hand.  None 
would  countenance  the  recreancy  of  his  wife  ; 
he  was  looked  upon  as  an  afflicted  man,  whose 
efforts  to  establish  truth  should  be  applauded. 
None  would  believe  that  he  was  capable  of 
harshness  ;  and  when  he  was  thus  sustained 
by  nearly  all,  he  became  more  positive  and 
exacting,  until  it  was  at  last  rumored  that  a 
separation  had  taken  place,  Chat  his  domestic 
happiness  was  at  an  end,  and  that  his  wife 
had  taken  her  departure,  none  knew  whither. 

He  was  now  left  the  sole  guardian  and  pro 
tector  of  his  two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl, 
both  of  tender  years.  He  had  planed  them 
under  the  care  of  an  old  housekeeper  who  had 
lived  for  some  time  in  his  family,  and  subse 
quently  under  the  management  of  a  more  ac 
tive  person,  who  was  a  member  of  his  own 
church,  a  woman  who  would  be  sure  to  im 
press  their  minds  with  sound  religious  princi 
ples.  No  wonder  then,  deserted  as  he  was, 
that  the  doctor  had  so  many  fair  sympa 
thizing  friends.  The  ladies  of  his  congrega 
tion  looked  upon  him  aa  one  whoso  name 


80 


EXETER    HALL. 


might  yet  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as  an 
example  of  patience  under  affliction.  There 
fore,  as  an  injured  uncomplaining  man  in  the 
cause  of  truth,  his  trials  were  almost  a  con 
stant  theme  at  tea-parties:  and  a  great  portion 
of  the  time,  not  taken  up  by  missionary  or 
church  affairs,  was  spent  by  his  spiritual  sis 
ters  and  daughters,  in  devising  how  to  add 
a  little  comfort  or  sunshine  to  the  dreary,  win 
try  life  of  this  suffering  and  exemplary  Chris 
tian  pastor. 

There  were  some  reputed  wise  ones,  how 
ever,  who  were  bold  enough  to  assert  that  the 
chastened  moderator  was  not  altogether  a 
true  pattern  of  saintly  perfection.  There 
were  many,  who,  like  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall, 
for  instance,  thought  he  was  but  a  specious 
pretender,  a  cold,  unfeeling  hypocrite,  and 
that  time  would  yet  develop  his  true  charac 
ter.  There  were  murmurs  and  mutterings 
here  and  there,  that  the  doctor's  public  and 
private  life  were  in  sad  contrast.  What  had 
oecome  of  his  wife  ?  Did  he  cast  her  from 
him,  or  was  she  now  the  hidden  victim  of 
his  resentment  ?  Was  it  possible  that  he  knew 
nothing  of  her  ?  Why  did  he  keep  his  house 
like  a  prison,  and  his  children  with  a  stranger  ? 
There  was  something  irreconcilable  in  his  con 
duct  ;  and,  as  these  things  were,  time  after 
time,  mooted,  the  knowing  ones  grew  daily 
more  mysterious. 

But  the  doctor  stood  fair  with  the  members 
of  his  own  church  ;  such  defaming  reports  grew 
out  of  sectarian  jealousy — nothing  else  could 
be  expected.  The  great  Presbyterian  body 
looked  upon  him  with  pride  as  the  embodi 
ment  of  learning  and  piety;  and  now,  as  he 
was  about  to  address  the  few  assembled  in 
St.  Andrew's  Church,  wrangling  elders  and 
deacons  subsided,  and  all  awaited  in  silence. 

The  reverend  doctor,  on  rising  with  a  kind 
of  easy  dignity  to  address  the  few  around  him, 
first  drew  from  his  pocket  a  white  cambric 
handkerchief  which  he  delicately  applied  to 
his  lips,  as  if  to  remove  any  impediment  to  the 
flow  of  words  which  might  be  expected  to  fol 
low.  He  then  made  a  stately  inclination  and 
commenced: 

"  Rev.  gentlemen  and  most  esteemed  friends, 
a  concurrence  of  circumstances  has  rendered 
it  imperative  on  me  to  solicit  your  attention 
for  a  short  period  this  evening.  I  desire  to 
state  a  few  important  facts,  for  the  purpose  of 
stimulating  you  to  prompt  action  against  en 
croachments  of  a  peculiar  nature.  I  wish  not 
to  excite  an  unchristian  ebullition,  or  a  mere 
effervescence  of  transient  indignation.  No, 
my  friends,  we  must  not  be  betrayed  into  any 
unseemly  demonstration  ;  we  must  proceed 
cautiously.  Therefore,  first,  I  desire  culm  de 
liberation,  secondly,  confidence  and  conjura 
tion,  and  thirdly,  strenuous  and  persevering 
effort." 

He  paused;  the  lengthened  words  uttered 
with  such  classical  precision  by  the  learned 
doctor  seemed  to  have  stepped  out  from  his 
lips  with  measured  pace,  and  to  have  ranged 
themselves  about  him  like  a  body-guard  of 
grenadiers. 

No  wonder  that  the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell 
should  look  upon  this  fountain  of  eloquence 
with  a  feeling  of  denominational  pride.  No 


wonder  that  elders  and  deacons,  and  simple 
pastors  should  stand  almost  amazed  at  the 
sound  of  language  which  they  could  scarcely 
comprehend ;  while  others  huddled  closer  to 
the  speaker,  as  if  they  fully  understood  the 
deep  meaning,  at  the  close  of  the  finished  pe 
riod. 

The  learned  doctor  continued  for  some  min 
utes  in  the  same  strain.  He  again  urged  them 
to  be  active ;  and  though  he  cautioned  them 
to  be  as  wise  as  serpents,  he  was  forgetful  of 
the  context  concerning  harmlessness  of  doves. 
He  made  some  very  pointed  and  severe  remarks 
about  the  illiterate  and  presumptuous  preach 
ers  of  the  day  ;  he  alluded  to  one  particular 
sect  which  he  said  was  as  overbearing  :a  its 
ignorance  as  was  the  Church  of  St.  Peter — 
the  Rouiish — with  all  its  scholastic  attain 
ments.  An  effort  must  be  made  to  keep  such 
men  in  their  proper  position.  It  was  not  for 
Presbyterians,  who,  through  many  trials,  had 
once  held  in  submission  the  Popery  and 
Prelacy  of  a  former  period,  to  retire  before 
such  a  religious  rabble  ;  something  more  than 
a  formal  protest  was  necessary ;  it  would 
never  do  to  leave  the  field  to  others. 

By  this  time  the  doctor  grew  warm  ;  the  dig 
nified  placidity  which  at  first  seemed  to  hang 
like  a  silken  vail  over  his  face,  was  now  drawn 
aside,  and  a  countenance  depicting  fierce  and 
vindictive  passion  was  exposed  to  view  ;  even 
his  very  admirers  felt  somewhat  uneasy  at  the 
transition,  and  found  relief  when  he  took  his 
seat  and  applied  the  white  handkerchief  to 
his  heated  brow. 

There  was  a  murmur  of  applause,  but  it 
was  only  a  murmur.  The  brethren  breathed 
more  freely,  and  looked  at  each  other  as  if  they 
had  but  just  escaped  from  some  impending 
danger. 

In  a  moment  or  two,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Howe 
stood  up  ;  he  approved  of  what  the  Rev.  mod 
erator  had  suggested,  and  remarked  that  he 
was  quite  free  to  admit  the  services  and  pious 
determination  of  his  Presbyterian  brethren 
in  times  past,  but  they  must  not  forget  what 
others  had  done.  No  religious  body  of  peo 
ple  were  ever  more  ready  to  make  a  sacrifice 
for  the  truth  than  the  Baptists,  of  whom  he 
was  an  unworthy  minister.  He  wished  to 
speak  plainly  ;  he  had  no  confidence  in  the  pre 
tensions  of  Methodist*  or  their  allies.  He 
had  been  among  them  often,  and  had  once 
hoped  that  people  who  could  meet  and  pray 
together  for  the  dissemination  of  the  word, 
and  for  the  downfall  of  Popery — not  excepting 
that  of  the  High  Church — would  find  no  rea 
son  to  be  on  their  guard  against  each  other. 
The  Methodists  were  full  of  monopolizing  de 
signs,  he  could  not  trust  them  ;  and  he  re 
gretted  that  after  all  that  had  been  said  and 
done  by  the  boasted  Evangelical  Alliance,  sec 
tarian  jealousy  still  existed  and  was  particu 
larly  manifested  b/  the  Wesleyans. 

These  remarks  were  agreeably  received. 
The  spirit  of  the  meeting  was,  "  Down  with 
the  Methodists !" 

"  I  am  glad  that  the  Reverend  gentleman 
has  partly  explained  himself,"  said  the  Rev.  Jo 
nah  Hall,  of  the  Independents,  "  though  I  wish 
that  while  he  is  so  liberal  toward  Presbyteri 
ans  and  Baptists,  he  would  not  be  so  forgetful 


EXETER    HALL. 


31 


of  what  Independents  have  done.  I  hope," 
said  he  humorously,  "that  he  does  not  in 
tend  to  leave  my  particular  friends  out  in  the 
cold,  or  to  classify  them  with  the  blatant  rant 
ers  of  the  day.  The  Independents  could  and 
would  be  independent  of  all  others,  if  ne 
cessary  :  they  had  suffered  in  the  cause,  and 
would  occupy  no  secondary  position  in  the 
•struggle  for  right.  But,  friends,  we  have  not 
net  here  to  discuss  private  opinions  of  supe- 
•iority;  we  carne  here  to  try  and  counteract 
he  mischievous  designs  of  a  common  enemy, 
ind  this  is  the  time  and  place  to  begin  the 
work." 

There  were  cries  of  "  hear,  hear,"  and  the 
worthy  men  assembled  felt  as  if  they  were 
about  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  "  lie  continued, "  no  matter 
10 w  about  the  trifling  differences  that  may 
-•xist  among  ourselves,  we  must  put  a  stop  to 
:he  gallop  of  these  Methodist  cavaliers  who 
ire  cantering  abouA  so  confidently.  It  may  be 
some  time  yet  before  they  take  the  beggar's 
ride  ;  but  the  swaddlers  are  on  horseback,  and 
is  they  are  the  chief  beggars  of  Christendom, 
;he  adage  must  come  true,  for  they  will  surely, 
ride  to  the— well,  of  course,  in  this  place,  and 
in  presence  of  so  distinguished  a  divine  -"  and 
he  accompanied  this  ironical  expression  with 
a  bow  to  the  moderator — "  I  won't  say  where. 
Anyway,  we  must  put  a  five-barred  gate  in 
"Jieir  way  that  they  can't  jump." 

There  was  a  burst  of  applause,  some  loud 
laughter,  and  fresh  cries  of, "  hear  him,  hear 
aim."  The  Rev.  moderator  about  this  time 
oegan  to  show  symptoms  of  displeasure.  Had 
:hey  forgotten  who  he  was?  His  dignity 
was  hurt ;  f  r  the  speaker's  irony  was  rather 
pointed.  This  was  a  case  of  ministerial  jeal 
ousy,  the  general  result  of  mixed  assemblies. 

"  Now,  mv  friends,"  continued  Mr.  Hall. 
'  we  have  the  ranters  in  a  corner.  They  want 
to  nourish  again  at  Exeter  Hall.  Let  us  meet 
them  to-morrow  night  on  our  own  ground,  and 
rout  them.  Let  us  now  decide  who  shall  be 
nominated  to-morrow  evening  aa  our  delegate 
at  the  coming  anniversary  ;  by  so  doing,  we  go 
there  prepared  to  take  the  wind  out  of  their 
sails." 

"  Yes,  that's  it,"  cried  two  or  three,  "let  us 
go  prepared  for  them,  and  have  our  man  ready." 

The  Rev.  moderator  now  suggested  that 
such  a  course  might  be  premature ;  the  num 
ber  then  present  was  too  insignificant  to  take 
a  proceeding  of  that  kind.  They  would  meet 
many  additional  friends  to-morrow  evening 
who  might  wish  to  have  a  voice  in  the  selec 
tion  ;  and  were  they  now  to  name  a  person  for  a 
delegate,  it  would  be  unpleasant  to  be  obliged 
to  lay  him  aside.  It  would  be  better  to  let  the 
delegate  be  chosen  at  the  regular  meeting. 

The  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell  concurred  in 
•his  view.  It  would  no  doubt  be  more  prudent 
to  leave  the  selection  to  the  meeting ;  while 
here,  they  could  make  other  arrangements. 

The  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  could  not  see  the 
force  of  such  objections  to  a  nomination. 
What  other  arrangement  could  they  make  at 
present?  He  could  not  understand  the  motive 
for  delay.  "With  all  due  deference  to  the  supe 
rior  j  udgment  of  the  distinguished  moderator," 
said  he,  in  his  former  ironical  strain,  "  there 


might  be  a  few  present  who  would  approve  of 
taking  action  at  once.  Let  us  choose  some 
name  to  be  presented  at  the  meeting  ;  none  of 
our  absent  friends  can  object.  We  are  now 
comparatively  calm ;  we  might  not  be  so 
much  so  to-morrow  evening." 

"  I  propose,"  said  an  Open  Communion  bro 
ther,  starting  up,  "  that  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  be 
the  person  nominated." 

Cries  of  "  no,  no,  yes,  yes,"  were  now  heard. 
Several  persons  spoke  out  together,  and  some 
curious  expressions  were  audible.  The  mod 
erator  and  Mr.  Campbell  jumped  up  at  the 
same  moment,  and  almost  with  one  voice 
rudely  condemned  the  proposal. 

Already,  there  was  not  only  a  division  but  a 
subdivision.  The  moderator,  and  Mr.  Camp 
bell,  and  Mr.  Howe,  the  Regular  Baptist  min 
ister,  with  a  few  others,  were  in  favor  of  de 
lay  ;  while  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall,  and  the  mem 
bers  of  his  church,  one  or  two  other  preachers, 
and  nearly  all  of  the  Open  Communionists 
were  for  proceeding  at  once  ;  while  8till  a  few 
others  from  each  party  stood  apparently  in- 
difterent,  but  ready  to  join  the  majority. 

A  considerable  time  was  thus  spent,  as  it 
were,  in  charging  and  counter-charging.  The 
Rev.  Jonah  Hall  and  his  supporters  being 
most  numerous,  would  not  give  way,  but 
continued  in  angry  altercation  and  bit 
ter  recriminations.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Camp 
bell  was  denounced  in  his  own  church. 
He  might,  he  was  told,  order  them  out  if 
he  liked  ;  but  if  he  tried  to  overrule  them 
as  he  seemed  willing  to  do  at  present,  the 
motive  would  be  only  too  plain.  If  he  had 
a  majority  on  his  side  sufficient  to  sup 
port  the  nomination  of  the  moderator,  all 
would  be  pleasant  enough  ;  but  the  moderator 
was  not  the  man  for  them,  and  they  would  en 
deavor  to  prove  it  on  the  very  first  opportunity. 

The  discomfited  minister  of  St.  Andrew's 
had  to  hide  his  mortification  the  best  way  he 
could.  The  result  of  this  select  meeting  was 
very  unexpected.  He  had  hoped  that  the  mer 
its  of  Dr.  Buster  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
decide  in  his  favor  ;  and  although  he  expressed 
a  desire  to  delay  the  nomination  of  any  person 
for  delegate,  yet  he  would  not  have  made  the 
least  objection  had  the  doctor  been  chosen. 

What  an  utter  want  of  appreciation  and  re 
spect  was  thus  shown  by  the  leader  of  an  in 
significant  sect  toward  such  a  person  as  the 
moderator  of  theOieneral  Assembly  !  In  a  few 
minut"S,  the  manifestations  were  fast  becom 
ing  personal,  and  the  spirit  of  sect  was  again 
in  the  ascendant.  The  moderator  and  his  par- 
ticulur  friends  were  in  high  dudgeon,  and  were 
preparing  to  leave  the  church  ;  but  the  Rev. 
Jonah  Hall  and  his  party,  desirous  of  showing 
their  contempt  of  the  whole  proceeding,  col 
lected  in  a  body,  and  as  they  hastened  away 
together,  the  heavy  bang  of  the  great  church 
door  resounded  through  the  whole  building. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  departure  of  these 
great  religious  luminaries,  the  sexton  of  St. 
Andrew's  extinguished  the  lesser  lights  in  that 
church — what  purpose  had  they  served  ?  and 
as  he  walked  away,  alone,  along  the  dreary 
street,  he  met  shivering  women  and  hungry 
children  ;  and  he  looked  back  at  the  stately 
proportions  of  the  edifice,  looming  up  in  the 


EXETER    HALL. 


misty  night,  and  thought  of  the  thousands  of 
homeless  wanderers  who  would  be  glad  to 
find  even  temporary  shelter  within  such  walls. 
But  there  is  no  humanity  in  their  marble  bo 
soms  ;  those  splendid  and  costly  religious  mon 
uments  could  not  be  desecrated  to  charity. 
They  were  not  erected  as  a  refuge  for  the 
wretched  and  forlorn  ;  they  were  not  intended 
for  the  mitigation  of  real  suffering.  If  they 
do  not  open  their  spacious  doors  to  shelter  the 
living  poor,  they  can,  like  the  great  Abbey  of 
Westminster,  receive  and  protect  the  wither 
ing  remains  of  the  wealthy  dead. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IF  the  Rev.  Dr.  Buster  had  reason  to  feel 
aggrieved  at  the  want  of  courtesy  shown  him 
in  St.  Andrew's  church,  and  at  the  indignity 
to  which  he  had  been  subjected  by  the  minis 
ter  of  a  petty  sect  of  Independents,  he  felt  in 
some  degree  compensated  by  the  distin 
guished  reception  lie  met  with  at  the  house  of 
his  reverend  friend,  Mr.  Campbell.  When  it 
was  known  that  the  doctor  was  to  be  the  guest 
of  the  minister  of  St.  Andrew's,  the  ladies  of 
that  congregation  turned  out  in  companies  of 
five,  or  six,  and,  by  their  constant  calls  for  sev 
eral  hours,  fairly  besieged  the  dwelling  of  their 
pastor,  which  was  for  the  present  to  be  the 
transient  or  rather  temporary  abode  of  one  of 
the  elect,  whose  Calvinistic  virtues  and  do 
mestic  long-sufferings  endeared  him  to  so 
many. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say,  that  the  reverend 
doctor  was  always  particularly  pleased  by  such 
attentions.  To  be  ministered  unto  by  the 
sou  hands  of  Christian  sisters,  and  to  be  looked 
at  with  affection  through  their  softer  eyes, 
ought,  in  a  measure,  to  enable  any  man  to  fed 
reconciled  or  indifferent  to  the  unkindness  or 
hostility  of  his  unscrupulous  opponents  in  the 
struggle  for  precedence  or  distinction.  The 
reverend  doctor  was  but  a  man  in  these  mat 
ters,  and  was  highly  gratified  at  meeting  with 
many  of  his  fair  friends ;  and  to  look  at  him, 
as  he  sat  in  the  handsome  parlor  of  Mr. 
Campbell,  surrounded  by  so  much  sweet  sym 
pathy,  one  might  be  led  to  suppose  that  ttie 
doctor  would  be  willing  to  suffer  some  slight 
misfortune  every  day,  in  order  to  be  restored 
by  such  a  delightful  remedy. 

To  woman,  in  every  relation  of  life,  man  is 
indebted  for  his  noblest  and  most  persevering 
elibrts.  Without  the  cheering  word  or  stim 
ulating  smile  of  woman,  many  a  vast  project 
would  have  been  forsaken,  and  many  a  con 
spicuous  laurel  never  worn ;  and,  although  the 
orthodox  of  the  present,  day  might  not,  in 
all  cases,  be  willing  to  select  the  women  of 
the  Bible  as  patterns  of  feminine  goodness,  or 
domestic  virtue,  or  as  models  for  the  heroines 
of  modern  civilization,  yet  it  is  asserted  that 
without  her  influence  religion  would  decay 
or  languish  into  the  most  trivial  formality : 
that  patriotism  would  become  extinct,  and 
that  many  of  our  most  cherished  notions  would 
be  forsaken. 

In  every  age  of  the  world,  woman  figures 
on  the  page  of  history  as  the  handmaid  of 


religion.  No  matter  in  what  form  it  has  ap 
peared,  how  rude  or  how  perfect  has  been  its 
revelation,  she  has  favored  its  progress  and  has 
assisted  in  its  extension,  either  as  uriestess,  si 
byl,  vestal,  or  nun.  The  Roman,  as  well  as 
the  Reformed  Church  is  loud  in  her  praise  ;  and 
Protestant  missionaries  would  have  very  little 
success  without  her  coo'peration.  Among  the 
distant,  rude,  half-starved  tribes,  the  mission 
ary's  wife  in  the  kitchen  may  be  often  far 
more  persuasive  than  the  missionary  himself 
in  the  pulpit ;  and  the  shipwrecked  mariner 
in  his  distress  is  often  comforted  by  the 
prayer  he  learnt  at  his  mother's  knee,  or  by  the 
possession  of  her  Bible  as  the  last  endearing 
token  of  her  memory. 

All  sects,  therefore,  readily  acknowledge 
that  by  woman's  pious  industry  churches  are 
built,  endowments  made,  missions  established, 
Bibles  printed,  tracts  circulated,  Sunday- 
schools  opened,  and  worldly  comforts  secured 
for  ministers.  In  fact,  by  her  zeal,  nearly  all 
the  religious  machinery  of  the  age  is  lubrica 
ted  and  kept  in  operation.  As  her  faith  is 
unequaled,  so  her  constancy  is  secure;  and 
while  doubting,  reasoning,  incredulous  man 
is  restlessly  wandering  in  flighty  speculation, 
woman's  eye  remains  unalterably  fixed  on 
some  bright  particular  star  of  hope,  and  it 
watches  fondly  and  lovingly  there  forever. 

It  is  well,  then,  that  those  devoted  men  who 
undertake  the  performance  of  so  much  minis 
terial  drudgery  can  count  on  her  assistance  ; 
and   it  is  well   that  in   seasons  of  personal 
trial,   or   spiritual   adversity,   sisters    of   the 
church,  whether  of  Rusnia,  Rome,  England,  or 
'  Utah,  can  be  found  ready  to  soothe  the  priest- 
i  hood   into   forgetfulness  of   private  wrongs, 
and  encourage  them  to  "  press  forward  to  the 
mark  of  their  high  calling." 
i      Thi-  sweet  influence  had  ever  a  most  potent 
and  peculiar  effect  on  the  Rev.  Doctor  Buster. 
No  matter  what  private  wrongs,  what  minis 
terial  jealousy,  what  vile  misrepresentations 
might  disturb  his  Christian  serenity,  or  cause 
i  him   to  feel   for  a  moment  the  combatative 
1  promptings   of    the  old   Adam   still   strong 
within    him,  when  the  fair  members  of   his 
|  own  denomination  cared  for  him,  and  defend- 
j  ed  him,  and  prayed  for  him,  what  cause  had 
!  lie    to     fear  ?     Why    should     he    despond '( 
Backed  by  such  an  angelic  host,  he  could  over 
power  every  assailant,  and  triumph  over  every 
enemy. 

The  worthy  doctor  was,  therefore,  ever 
most  gracious  in  his  intercourse  with  Christian 
ladies ;  indeed,  his  preference  for  female  soci 
ety  of  any  kind  was  a  marked  characteristic  ; 
but  with  sisters  of  the  faith,  he  could  for  the 
time  forget  every  thing  of  a  personal  nature  ; 
with  them,  even  in  the  more  formal  inter 
change  of  spiritual  courtesies,  he  appeared  to 
realize  perfect  happiness.  Thus  it  is  that 
good  men — the  persecuted  ministers  of  the 
Lord — are  ever  rewarded ;  thus,  while  the 
world  affects  to  despise  and  frown  upon  hum 
ble  servants  of  the  cross,  they  are  privileged 
to  bask  in  the  bright  smiles  of  pious,  devoted 
woman.  What  a  sweet  reward  for  personal 
sacrifice  in  the  cause  of  religion,  while  the 
scoffer  and  the  scornful  may  be  but  a  prey  to 
sullen  discontent  and  uncertainty  1 


EXETER    HALL. 


38 


Next  to  the  interest  which  the  doctor's  visit 
created,  there  was  that  caused  by  the  meeting 
ot  the  Branch  Bible  Society,  to  be  held  that 
evening.  The  doctor  would  be  present  on 
that  occasion,  and  the  ladies  of  Mr.  Campbell's 
congregation  were  in  a  state  of  commotion  : 
a  number  of  fair  collectors  were  marshaling 
tii'.'ir  forces,  and  making  out  sums  total ;  all 
were  anxious  to  have  a  large  amount  placed 
to  tbu  credit  of  Presbyterian  energy.  Then 
tuere  was  to  be  a  great  preliminary  tea-meet 
ing,  at  which  the  doctor  would  ask  the  bless 
ing  ;  would  not  this  be  a  treat?  And  then  to 
hear  him  relate  some  missionary  anecdote,  or 
repay  your  own  Sunday-school  trials  with 
one  of  his  bland  smiles  ;  would  not  that  be 
agreeable?  It  was  altogether  a  time  of  great 
interest  to  the  pious  ladies  crowded  together, 
and  one  might  be  inclined  to  excuse  the  total 
neglect  of  sundry  little  household  matters, 
when  such  affairs  of  religious  importance  had 
to  be  transacted  ;  the  Lord's  business  of  course 
required  their  first  attention. 

However,  while  the  soiree  at  which  the  doc 
tor  presided  was  comfortably  crowded  with  the 
well-dressed  ladies  of  St.  Andrew's,  and  while 
the  extensive  tea-table  at  Mr.  Campbell's  was 
enlivened  by  innocent  chit-chat,  and  by  the 
smart  witticisms  and  soft  flattery  of  the  mode 
rator,  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  was  similarly  engag 
ed  at  a  tea-meeting  in  his  own  house.  There, 
also,  many  of  the  gay  but  sanctified  sisters  of 
Israel  met  to  sip  Bohea  and  discuss  its  price ; 
and  afterward  to  ascertain  the  amount  of  local 
collections  for  the  circulation  of  the  Great  Book, 
and  to  make  out  certain  lists  of  lady  collectors 
for  the  ensuing  year.  Presbyterians,  and  Meth 
odists,  and  others  had  of  late  succeeded  in  get 
ting  a  choice  of  such  officials  almost  to  the  ex 
clusion  of  the  Independents,  and  an  attempt 
was  to  be  made  at  the  meeting  that  night  to 
rectify  this  omission,  as  well  as  to  teach  Dr.  Bus 
ter  and  other  aspiring  people  a  lesson  of  humil 
ity.  Pastors  are  generally  regarded  with 
great  interest  by  the  female  members  of  their 
congregations,  and  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  was 
not  an  exception.  There  was  a  certain  dash 
about  him  which  made  his  manner  rather  at 
tractive  to  the  younger  women  of  his  flock  ; 
and  of  course,  in  their  opinion,  he  was  every 
way  superior  to  the  pompous,  pretentious 
moderator  of  the  Presbyterian  Assembly. 

After  these  respective  tea-meetings  were 
over,  it  was  expected  that  all  concerned  would 
wend  their  way  to  the  Baptist  church.  The 
annual  gathering  of  the  friends  of  the  Hamp- 
stead  Branch  Bible  Society  was  always  an  occa 
sion  of  great  interest  to  worldlings  as  well  as 
to  worshipers ;  more  particularly  to  pious  dis 
senters.  Indeed,  taking  it  altogether,  the  so 
ciety  was  a  popular  institution.  To  be  an  offi 
cer,  to  be  one  of  its  many  vice-presidents,  or 
to  be  able  to  contribute  a  fair  amount  to  its 
funds  was  sure  to  pay,  or  to  turn  out  a  good 
investment.  The  meeting  that  evening  would 
no  doubt  be  very  interesting  ;  it  would  be  like 
Exeter  Hall  on  a  small  scale  ;  there  would  be 
the  local  ministers  of  several  denominations: 
there  would  be  a  few  great  ones,  like  Doctor 
15uster;  and  there  would  be  anthems  and  an 
ecdotes,  and  speeches,  and  thrilling  extracts 
from  missionary  reports.  And  then  how  pleas 


ant  it  would  be  to  see  ministers  and  members 
of  different  sects  meet  as  one  body,  act  with 
one  spirit,  and  be  enlivened  by  the  same  Gos 
pel  vitality  ;  it  would  be  pleasant,  indeed ; 
would  it  not  be  a  sight  to  abash  the  scoffer 
and  infidel  ?  There  would  be  the  place  to 
!  prove  hnw  Christians  could  be  "  kindly  affec- 
i  tionate  one  to  another,  in  honor  preferring 
each  other."  That  would  be  the  place  to  put 
UQbe}ievera  to  shame,  and  to  prove  how  worth 
less  were  the  insinuations  and  predictions  ut 
tered  against  Christian  fellowship.  Yes,  the 
harmony  that  should  prevail  among  an  assem 
bly  of  believers  would  be  an  overwhelming 
evidence  in  favor  of  the  "  unity  of  spirit"  aud 
the  "  bonds  of  peace." 

What  wrecks  of  fancy  are  strewn  upon  the 
rocks  of  fact !  Our  once  bright  hopes  are  now 
but  phantoms  to  the  memory  1  Upon  what 
moonbeams  have  our  noblest  structures  been 
erected !  How  seldom  are  our  most  pleasing 
anticipations  realized !  how  often,  on  the  con 
trary,  are  the  budding  leaves  of  Hope  sudden 
ly  withered  and  blown  into  our  faces  by  some 
chilling  blast  of  adversity!  It  is  hard  to  see 
the  creations  of  faith,  that  look  so  bright  and. 
beautiful  in  the  distance,  become  dim  and 
faded  on  nearer  approach ;  but  such  is  the 
experience  of  life,  and  the  lesson  is  often  and 
often  taught  us  when  perhaps  we  least  expect 
its  repetition. 

While  many  of  the  good  people  who  were 
then  in  social  intercourse  and  enjoyment  at 
the  respective  houses  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Campbell 
and  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall,  and  while  many 
other  less  demonstrative  Christians  were 
making  preparations  to  attend  the  meeting 
that  evening,  the  Rev.  James  Baker  was  at 
home  with  a  few  friends,  making  ready  for  the 
same  occasion.  He  had  only  returned  an  hour 
or  two  previously,  after  having  taken  a  long 
ride  through  various  parts  of  his  circuit,  not 
for  the  purpose  of  filling  his  regular  appoint 
ments,  but  he  had  been  to  places  where  he 
was  sure  to  find  some  of  the  strongest  friends 
of  Methodism,  and  some  of  the  stoutest  and 
most  bitter  opponents  of  Calvinism.  That 
his  journey,  for  whatever  purpose  undertaken, 
had  been  successful,  was  apparent  at  a  glance. 
The  preacher  was  in  the  best  humor.  It 
was  quite  plain  that  he  felt  like  a  man  who 
held  a  trump  card,  that  the  game  was  secure, 
or  that  he  could  checkmate  his  opponent  at 
the  proper  moment.  The  friends  who  were 
now  his  guests  were  men  who  could  be  relied 
on ;  their  mental  bias  was  unalterable.  They 
were  prominent  local  preachers  and  circuit 
stewards.  They,  too,  had  a  confident  look 
about  them,  which  seemed  to  say,  we're  ready 
for  a  brush,  for  we  know  we  can  win.  There 
was  no  mistaking  their  appearance  as  being 
church  functionaries  of  some  kind.  They  wore 
black  coats  of  peculiar  cut,  and  heavy  wh.tish 
neckerchiefs :  only  one  or  two  were  dressed  in 
a  more  worldly  fashion. 

Mrs.  Baker  also  had  company.  A  few  of 
the  members  of  her  class  had,  as  usual,  remain 
ed  after  their  religious  duties  were  over, 
among  whom  was  Mrs.  Manners.  Altogether, 
there  was  a  good  number  of  persons  present, 
mostly  all  of  one  mind,  and  lively  in  anticipa 
tion  of  an  assured  success.  Tea  had  been 


EXETER    HALL. 


provided  for  nil,  and  tlie  various  topics  pleas 
antly  discussed  at  the  table  were  on  this  occa 
sion  particularly  interesting.  After  Mr.  Baker 
and  hia  friends  had  partaken  ot  the  good 
cheer,  they  retired,  as  if  for  a  short  rehearsal 
of  the  respective  parts  to  be  performed  at  the 
meeting.  During  their  absence,  the  ladies 
continued  sipping  at  their  cups,  and  were  en 
gaged  in  the  frivolous  chat  which  among 
church-members  becomes  almost  religious  un 
der  the  mild  inspiration  of  Young  Hyson. 

Mrs.  Mannors  made  some  anxious  inquiries 
about  Mr.  Capel.  He  had  not  yet  returned 
from  the  circuit,  but  was  expecled  every  mo 
ment.  She  wished  to  let  him  know  how 
pleased  her  husband  felt  that  he  consented  to 
make  her  house  his  home  for  a  season.  She 
contented  herself  in  the  mean  time,  however, 
by  edifying  her  sisters  with  the  relation  of  a 
very  strange  dream  she  had  had  since  her  first 
meeting  with  the  young  preacher,  and  she 
was  curious  to  know  what  would  be  his  inter 
pretation. 

The  church  of  the  Rev.  Caleb  Howe,  the 
regular  Baptist  minister,  was  a  plainer  edifice 
than  St.  Andrew's,  but  fully  as  large,  and 
might  possibly  accommodate  a  greater  num 
ber.  Its  pews  were  not  so  richly  cushioned  as 
the  luxurious  dens  of  the  Presbyterian  sanctu 
ary,  and,  therefore,  not  so  liable  to  be  injured 
during  demonstrations  at  religious  anniversa 
ries.  The  building  was  brilliantly  lighted  up ;  a 
spacious  platform  had  be-n  erected  and  cover 
ed  wi'h  rich  carpeting.  There  was  a  fine  arm 
chair  for  the  president,  and  a  small  table  at 
which  the  secretary  could  sit.  with  a  sufficient 
number  of  chairs  for  the  accommodation  of 
the  reverend  gentlemen,  and  other  speakers 
who  were  expected  to  address  the  meeting.  It 
was  yet  early  in  the  evening  ;  only  a  few  elder 
ly  persons  had  entered  the  pews,  and  several  la 
dies  of  the  congregation  were  completing  sun 
dry  little  arrangements  necessary  for  the  occa 
sion. 

There  were  two  large  arched  doorways  in 
front  of  the  building.  In  a  few  minutes,  there 
was  a  rush  of  persons  through  them,  who,  upon 
entering  the  church,  hastily  took  possession 
of  the  front  seats  and  pews,  and  of  such  other 
places  as  would  afford  the  best  views  of  the 
different  speakers.  The  rush  continued.  In 
they  came,  disorderly  enough  ;  there  was  crush 
ing  and  crowding  for  any  spot  nearest  the 
platform,  and  with  many  persons  there  was  as 
little  propriety  of  manner  as  if  they  had  been 
jostling  each  other  at  a  circus.  The  respect 
usually  shown  for  the  house  of  the  Lord  now 
seemed  to  have  been  forgotten,  and  so  punctual 
was  the  attendance  on  this  particular  evening, 
that  in  about  half  an  hour  from  the  time  of 
the  first  rush,  the  church  was  completely  filled 
in  every  part ;  even  standing-room  in  any  spot 
of  the  building  could  be  found  but  with 
great  difficulty.  There  was  a  perfect  jam ; 
and  many  of  the  more  orderly  church-goers 
wondered,  no  doubt,  at  the  very  unusual  zeal 
or  fervor  exhibited  by  such  a  number  of  pro 
fessed  Christiana. 

There  was  not,  however,  the  same  hurry 
•hown  to  occupy  the  platform ;  the  chairs 
were  yet  vacant ;  and  although  there  were  a 
few  elders  and  deacons  present,  they  merely 


stood  conversing  in  a  quiet  corner,  as  if  await 
ing  orders.  There  were  none  of  the  rulers 
'  yet  to  be  seen,  unless  the  Rev.  Mr.  Howe,  the 
pastor  of  the  church,  might  be  called  one  of 
that  class.  He  was  of  course  there  to  receive 
those  who  were  about  to  honor  his  tabernacle  ; 
and  lest  there  should  be  any  show  of  impa- 
I  tience  exhibited  by  the  expectant  crowd,  he 
directed  the  choir  to  sing  an  anthem.  The 
trained  voices  were  soon  heard  ;  but  before  the 
anthem  was  ended,  the  Rev.  Doctor  Buster 
had  been  allotted  The  most  conspicuous  place 
on  the  carpeted  elevation.  He  was  followed 
or  attended  by  the  Kev.  Mr.  Campbell,  and  one 
or  two  others.  The  doctor  had  scarcely  been 
seated  before  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  took  up  a 
position,  and,  immediai ely  afterward,  the  Rev. 
James  Baker,  Mr.  Capel,  and  the  secretary, 
took  their  seats  upon  the  platform.  As  each 
minister  made  his  appearance,  he  made  rather 
a  formal  bow  to  his  clerical  brethren,  and  a 
kind  of  partisan  greeting  could  be  heard  here 
and  there  from  people  in  the  pews,  though 
not  sufficiently  loud  to  attract  any  particular 
attention. 

Other  preachers  had  arrived ;  every  thing 
was  now  ready.  The  different  ministers  and 
speakers  were  seated  like  enthroned  saints  be 
fore  the  assembly,  and  a  deep  silence  prevail 
ed,  something  of  the  same  nature  as  the  omi 
nous  stillness  which  it  is  said  precedes  for  a 
short  time  an  impending  battle,  while  the 
combatants  stand  ranged  before  each  other 
awaiting  the  dread  command  for  the  begin 
ning  of  deadly  strife. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Howe,  pastor  of  the  chuich, 
stepped,  at  last,  to  the  front  of  the  secretary's 
table  and  gave  out  a  hymn.  He  read  it  slow 
ly,  and  then  the  choir,  aided  by  a  few  of  the 
ministers  and  by  several  voices  in  the  body  of 
the  church,  sung  it  through.  Mr.  Howe  then 
called  on  the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell  to  offer 
up  a  prayer.  That  gentleman  stood  up,  and 
having  piously  closed  his  eyes  and  lifted  his 
hand,  began  a  prayer  which  for  genuine  fer 
vency  could  not  be  surpassed.  He  alluded  to 
the  gross  darkness  which  once  prevailed  over 
the  whole  earth,  and  to  the  great  and  glorious 
effects  of  the  Gospel  in  enlightening  the  hu 
man  mind,  and  in  dispelling  t\:s  clouds  of 
error  and  superstition  which  in  times  past  had 
overshadowed  the  world.  He  spok  •  of  the 
salutary  influence  of  Christianity  on  the  heart, 
and  of  its  power  in  softening  and  humani/.ing 
men  who  were  by  nature  and  habit  hardened 
in  iniquity.  Without  the  Gospel,  what  would 
the  world  be,  how  deplorable  the  condition  of 
mankind  ;  but  what  blessed  results  had  follow 
ed  in  its  footsteps.  Now,  the  scoffer  and  un 
believer  could  witness  its  efficacy  in  bringing 
together  men  who  were  once  aliens ;  in  mak 
ing  men  of  every  land  and  clime  love  each 
other  with  childlike  simplicity,  and  in  estab 
lishing  a  spirit  of  union  and  harmony  among 
all  who  became  subject  to  its  divine  influence. 
Yes,  it  was  the  proud  boast  of  Christianity 
that  it  was  peculiarly  the  religion  of  peace 
and  love. 

The  reverend  gentleman  toiled  for  some 
time  through  the  various  repetitions  of  hia 
prayer :  he  was  felt  to  be  tedious ;  but  he, 
worthy  man,  was  almost  tearfully  affected  by 


EXETER    HALL. 


35 


the  solemn  sound  of  his  own  words,  and  no  [  and  activity  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hall  in  arresting 


doubt  many  persons  in  the  church  followec 
him  in  his  pious  ejaculations.  But  there  were 
two  or  three  friends  near  him.  who,  although 
in  the  various  attitudes  of  devotion  most  ap 
proved  of  by  their  respective  sects,  did  not 
seem  to  heed  his  petition,  but  were  intently 
watching1  the  peculiar  expression  of  his  face 
The  Rev.  James  Baker  knelt  on  one  side  of 
him,  while  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  stood  in  the 
opposite  direction  ;  and,  although  neither  of 
the  ministers  could  see  the  other,  their  steady 
gaxe  was  fixed  on  the  Importuning  pastor  of 
St.  Andrew's  as  if  perfectly  astonished  by  the 
liberality  of  his  address,  or  at  some  personal 
singularity  which  seemed  to  engage  their 
whole  attention. 

When  the  prayer  was  ended,  another  an 
them  was  sung  by  the  choir  with  good  effect ; 
and  at  the  conclusion  of  this  service,  the  sec 
retary  intimated  that,  as  the  president  was 
unavoidably  absent,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
appoint  a  chairman,  in  order  that  the  report 
might  be  read  and  the  business  of  the  eve 
ning  forwarded. 

He  had  scarcely  finished  these  words  before 
several  persons  started  up,  each  as  it  deter 
mined  upon  mVming  a  different  gentleman  for 
chairman.  This  was  the  cause  of  some  con 
fusion,  as  nobody  could  be  distinctly  heard. 
At  last,  during  a  momentary  pause,  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Baker  rose,  and  moved  that  Thomas  Bol 
ster,  Esq.,  take  the  chair. 

Mr.  Wesley  Jacobs,  a  local  preacher,  second 
ed  the  motion. 

Mr.  John  Thompson,  a  deacon  of  the  Regu 
lar  Baptists,  said  lie  regretted  that  such  a  mo 
tion  had  been  made ;  it  was  a  great  breach 
of  decorum  to  nominate  any  other  than  the 
vice  president ;  it  was  his  place  to  take  the 
chair  in  the  absence  of  the  president.  He 
thought  the  motion  of  Mr.  Baker  was  signifi 
cant  ;  it  boded  no  good  to  the  society.  He 
would  therefore  move  in  amendment  that  the 
vice-president  do  take  the  chair. 

The  Rev.  Doctor  Buster  said  it  was  a  very 
unusual  thing  indeed  to  exclude  at  a  public 
meeting  any  officer  from  his  proper  place. 
The  position  of  chairman  was  due  this  eve 
ning  to  the  vice-president,  and  he  would  second 
the  amendment. 

There  was  then  a  great  outcry  on  the  plat 
form.  The  Revs.  Baker,  Campbell,  Dr.  Bus- 
to;1,  an!  others,  all  vociferating  together,  either 
t"»r  or  against  the  amendment;  while,  at  the 
3>une  time,  strong  symptoms  of  excitement 
were  manifest  among  the  people. 

Shouts  of  "  Motion,  motion,  motion"  were 
now  heard  around  ;  and  the  secretary  after  some 
delay  and  much  altercation  declared  the 
amendment  carried,  and  called  on  Mr.  Thomas 
Johnson,  the  vice-president,  to  take  the  chair. 

A  scene  of  great  confusion   now  ensued  ; 


his  backward  descent. 

The  Rev.  Caleb  Howe  cried  out,  "  Order,  or 
der,  order  I"  and  declared  that  such  conduct 
was  most  disgraceful.  He  was  going  on  to 
speak, but  fresh  cries  of  "Chair, chair, chair!" 
obliged  him  to  retire  without  being  further 
heard. 

The  vice-president  at  last  became  seated ;  but 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Baker  in  an  excited  manner  im 
mediately  cried  out ;  "  I  protest  against  thia 
decision.  The  chairman  has  not  yet  been 
fairly  appointed  ;  I  move  that — " 

Here  the  uproar  increased  to  such  an  extent 
that  many  left  the  pews  and  got  upon  the 
platform,  which  was  now  nearly  crowded. 
Doctor  Buster  and  the  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  stood 
face  to  face,  a-  if  boldly  defying  each  other,  and 
using  gestures  which  might  lead  one  every 
moment  to  expect  that  the  argument  between 
these  brethren  was  not  going  to  be  entirely 
decided  by  mere  noisy  words. 

The  vice-president,  in  order  the  better  to  at 
tract  attention,  now  stood  on  the  chair,  and 
winding  about  his  arms,  loudly  demanded  to 
be  heard  even  for  a  few  moments.  He  must 
have  had  some  courage  to  do  this ;  for  he  was 
swayed  about  on  his  narrow  standing  place 
and  one  might  expect  every  instant  to  see  him 
fall  over  on  the  heads  of  the  reverend  comba 
tants  by  whom  he  was  surrounded. 

"  If  you  are  Christians,  I  demand  to  be 
heard,  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words.  I  will  not 
detain  you.  Let  me  say  only  a — " 

The  Rev.  Doctor  Buster  fairly  staggered 
under  the  load  of  humanity  that  had  just 
Hopped  into  his  arms.  The  poor  vice-presi 
dent  was  as  much  astonished  at  the  suddenness 
of  his  own  descent.  There  was  no  time  for 
apology,  and  he  as  suddenly  remounted  the 
chair  ;  and  while  the  doctor  was  trying  to  re 
cover  his  surprise  and  look  calm,  the  vice-presi 
dent  again  demanded  the  right  to  be  heard  for 
a  few  moments. 

Appearances  were  now  becoming  more 
favorable  for  him.  Voices  from  all  sides  were 
heard,  and  the  words  "  Hear  him,  hear  him !" 
came  so  fast  and  loud,  that  all  seemed  willing 
for  a  new  issue  by  hearing  somebody. 

The  vice-president  then  said,  that  it  had 
been  objected  that  he  should  occupy  the  chair 
at  that  meeting.  Why  such  an  objection  was 
raised,  he  could  not  say.  He  did  not  wish  to 
laim  any  right  to  dictate,  but  this  he  did 
inow,  that  in  any  other  place,  or  on  any  other 
occasion,  or  among  the  most  worldly  people, 
more  respect  would  have  been  shown  to  any 
one  occupying  the  position  of  vice-president 
of  a  society  than  had  been  shown  to  him  by 
that  assembly  of  Gospel  ministers  and  profess- 
ng  Christians  ;  even  the  well-known  decency 
and  decorum  observed  among  open  unbelievers 
should  put  them  to  shame.  The  usages  of 


people  in  different  parts  of  the  church  were  |  Exeter  Hall  were  entirely  different ;  such  con- 
using  ioud,  angry  words ;  and  the  wild  and 


rapid  gesticulations  of  many  almost  terrified 
the  trreater  number  of  ladies  present. 

The  vice-president  then  moved  toward  the 
chair,  but  it  was  pulled  aside  just  as  he  was 
going  to  take  his  seat,  and  he  would  have 
fallen  violently,  were  it  not  for  the  readiness 


duct  would  not  be  tolerated  there  for  a  mo 
ment.  The  professed  object  of  the  meeting 
that  evening  was  to  promote  the  circulation  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures  ;  but  it  was  apparent  that 
that  was  not  the  sole  object  of  all  present. 
If  a  sectarian  battle  had  to  be  fought  in  that 
place,  he  would  not  be  the  umpire ;  neither 


86 


EXETER    HALL. 


would  he  be  the  standard-bearer  for  any  party. 
He  only  saw  an  array  of  sect  against  sect,  and 
not  a  union  of  well  disposed  men.  He  would 
now  leave  the  chair,  for  he  was  pained  to  see 
Christianity  so  degraded  by  its  professed 
friends. 

"  Then  leave  it  at  once,"  shouted  some  one 
at  his  elbow,  after  which  there  was  cheering 
and  hisses. 

The  Eev.  Mr.  Baker  again  called  lustily  for 
his  nominee,  Mr.  Bolster.  "  I  again  demand 
that  Mr.  Bolster  rake  the  chair." 

The  noise  was  now  much  increased  ;  there 
were  hootings  and  cat  calls  from  several  parts  ; 
and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Howe  once  more  tried  to  say 
something,  but  could  not  get  a  hearing. 

The  Rev.  Jonah  Hall  here  rushed  to  the 
front,  raising  and  flourishing  his  shut  fist ;  he 
wanted  to  know  if  British  law  would  not  pro 
tect  them  in  their  just  rights  ;  he  wanted  to 
know  if — A  concert  of  yells  prevented  another 
word  from  being  heard,  and  after  a  continued 
struggle  with  the  discordant  crowd  before  him, 
he  was  forced  to  retire  ;  but  all  the  while 
made  desperate  efforts  to  raise  his  voice  high 
er  and  higher. 

The  platform  was  now  one  scene  of  confu 
sion.  Doctor  Buster  still  sat  with  an  apparent 
stubborn  indifference  to  what  was  going  on ; 
he  cast  occasional  side  glances  at  his  Reverend 
brothers  Hall,  and  Baker,  and  thought  what 
a  relief  it  would  then  be  to  him  could  he  con 
sistently  throw  aside,  but  for  a  few  moments, 
his  wearied,  injured  dignity,  and  give  these 
irritating  brethren  a  slight  evidence  of  his 
physical  power — even  of  his  right  arm  and 
shut  fist — or  even  the  laying  on  of  but  one 
hand,  that  they  long  might  remember.  But 
this  could  not  be ;  and  the  doctor  still  sat 
looking  quietly  at  the  sidelights — one  would 
think  the  most  patient  of  men — heroically  in- 
rifferent  to  the  squabbles  of  contending  cler 
gy  and  official  members.  Yes,  there  the  doc 
tor  sat  in  exemplary  forbearance,  as  the  distin 
guished  moderator  of  the  General  Assembly. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Campbell  was,  however,  very 
much  agitated.  He  had  for  the  last  half  hour 
made  several  attempts  to  speak  ;  but  as  sure  as 
he  began,  his  words  were  drowned  in  groans, 
and  hisses,  and  yells,  innumerable  ;  one  could 
see  his  lips  and  jaws  going,  in  a  vain  effort  to 
make  himself  heard  ;  yet,  after  having  manful 
ly  faced  the  storm,  making  the  best  use  of  his 
most  practiced  frowns,  he  had  to  retire  in  con 
fusion  from  shouts  of  laughter.  What  made 
his  case  worse  was,  that  by  some  means  in  the 
melee  one  of  the  glasses  of  his  spectacles  got 
knocked  out ;  and  as  he  violently  waved 
and  nodded  his  head  about,  the  remaining 
glass  gave  his  face  a  singular  appearance  as 
if  he  were  trying  to  wink  continually  with 
but  one  glistening  eye. 

Again,  cries  and  yells  came  from  all  parts 
of  the  church :  "  Chair,  chair!"  "Campbell !" 
"  Bolster !"  "  Buster  !"  "  Baker !"  "  Hall !"  and 
then  there  was  a  waving  of  hats  and  hand 
kerchiefs  ;  and  even  many  of  the  ladies  now 
caught  the  excitement,  and  held  up  their 
hands,  waving  away  violently  whenever  a 
favorite  name  was  shouted. 

It  was  now  felt  by  nearly  all  present  who 
could  still  think  with  any  calmness  within  the 


circle  of  such  a  babel  that  to  try  and  hold  a 
meeting  that  night,  and  in  that  church,  was, 
or  would  be,  an  utter  impossibility.  With  the 
exception  of  Mr.  Capel,  and  another  young 
minister,  every  preacher,  and  deacon,  and  el 
der  in  the  place  was  as  excited  and  as  ready 
for  fight  as  his  neighbor  ;  and  the  continued 
shouting,  and  laughter,  and  confusion  in  the 
body  of  the  church  was  almost  deafening. 
The  secretary  had  prudently  bundled  up  his 
books  and  papers,  and  stepped  down  from  the 
platform,  anxious  to  push  through  the  agitated 
mob  that  was  still  crushing  and  crowding. 
With  some  difficulty  he  was  permitted  to  force 
his  way  to  a  side  door,  where  he  and  a  few 
others  found  egress  from  the  building,  and 
who  were,  no  doubt,  glad  to  reach  the  open  air 
again. 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  when  near 
ly  all  were  satisfied  that  it  would  be  useless 
to  try  to  transact  any  business,  perhaps  the 
only  person  then  within  the  church  who  could 
say  with  any  effect,  "Peace,  be  still !"  now  ad 
vanced  toward  the  secretary's  table.  There 
was  no  trace  of  either  fear  or  excitement  upon 
his  countenance ;  he  was  perfectly  calm,  and 
his  very  appearance  created  such  an  interest 
in  his  favor  that  all  seemed  anxious  to  hoar 
him  speak.  There  was  a  lull  in  the  stcrm, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  the  breathing  of  an  in 
fant  might  have  been  heard,  so  great  was  the 
sudden  stillness. 

Mr.  Capel  then  stood  before  the  people,  and 
in  a  low,  but  audible  voice,  addressed  them. 

He  said  he  was  but  a  stranger,  and  he 
might  say  in  a  strange  land.  He  had  but 
lately  left  his  own  country  to  labor  in  their 
favored  island,  and  in  the  vineyard  of  the 
Lord,  among  the  followers  of  Knox,  and  Bax 
ter,  and  Wesley.  He  did  not  come  as  the 
supporter  of  sectarianism.  He  did  not  want 
to  know  who  was  for  a  Paul,  or  for  an  Apol- 
los,  or  for  a  Cephas ;  but  who  was  for  Christ. 
He  appeared  that  night  before  them  as  his 
unworthy  servant,  to  say  that  he  was  grieved 
at  the  great  disunion  manifested,  and  that  it 
was  plain  to  perceive  that  they  seemed  entire 
ly  forgetful  of  the  great  object  for  which  they 
had  ostensibly  met.  As  it  was,  it  would  be 
now  better  to  depart  in  peace,  until  some 
more  gracious  opportunity  would  bring  them 
together.  He  felt  pained"  to  say  one  word  by 
way  of  reproach,  but  he  must  speak  plainly, 
and  say,  that  God  was  dishonored  among  his 
own  people,  and  in  his  own  house.  He  would 
now  ask  all  present  to  retire,  and  not  by  any 
further  attempts  at  discord  to  bring  the  Gos 
pel  into  contempt  and  give  a  triumph  to  un 
believers. 

He  spoke  some  time  longer  in  the  same 
strain  ;  and  his  words  had  the  desired  effect 
with  a  number  of  persons.  A  great  many 
immediately  left  the  building  ;  but  the  spirit 
of  contention  was  not  yet  subdued,  and  the 
speaker  no  sooner  took  his  seat  than  some 
one  cried  out : 

"A  speech  from  Doctor  Buster! — Buster, 
wake  up !" 

The  learned  doctor  felt  indignant  to  be 
thus  rudely  called  out  to  face  a  rabble ;  but  he 
apparently  suppressed  every  feeling  of  agita 
tion  by  merely  turning  his  elegant  eye-glass 


EXETER    HALL. 


37 


In  the  direction  from  where  the  voice  had 
proceeded. 

Shouts  were;  again  renewed  for  "  Buster  1" 
"Baker I"  "Campbell!"  "Hall!"  Numbers 
were  leaving  the  church  as  fast  as  they  could  ; 
nearly  all  the  ministers  had  left,  hut  there 
were  many  who  remained  jeering,  shouting, 
and  laughing,  determined,  as  they  Baid,  "  to 
see  the  fun  out."  The  church  had  now  a  dim 
appearance  ;  it  was  getting  gloomy,  as  the  gas 
had  been  turned  off  in  many  places :  but  there 
atill  lingered  on  the  platform  a  set  of  reckless 
fellows,  as  if  expecting  something  else  to  oc 
cur,  and  their  expectations  were  soon  gratified. 

There  was  one  of  these,  a  strong  partisan 
of  Mr.  Baker,  who  was  an  adept  at  mimicry, 
and  who  tried,  as  if  on  a  stage,  to  give  a  bur 
lesque  representation  of  the  air  and  manner 
of  Doctor  Buster,  and  to  turn  the  moderator 
in  o  ridicule.  This  conduct  was  not  approved 
of  by  at  least  one  stout  man,  who,  with  a 
heavy  stick,  struck  the  mock  actor  a  violent 
blow,  and  was  going  to  repeat  the  experi 
ment,  when  in  a  moment  there  was  a  rush  of 
excited  persons,  and  the  platform  was  at  once 
converted  into  something  like  a  prize  ring. 
Two  angry  men  were  struggling  for  posses 
sion  of  the  stick,  and  there  was  a  swaying  to 
and  fro  among  a  knot  of  men,  pushing  and 
kicking  in  all  directions. 

At  this  time,  the  noise  could  be  heard  some 
distance  from  the  church  ;  seats  were  knocked 
about,  pew-doors  pulled  off,  and  books  torn  ; 
and  were  it  not  for  the  timely  arrival  of  a 
party  of  constables,  the  building  itself  might 
have  been  much  injured.  The  sectarian  revel 
was  over ;  no  good  had  been  done,  no  dele 
gate  had  been  chosen,  hut  the  reverend  chief 
actors  in  their  jealousy  had  determined,  each 
for  his  party,  to  support  independently  and 
more  fully,  with  God's  help,  the  noble  cause  of 
cheap  Bibles  at  the  next  great  anniversary  in 
Exeter  Hall.* 

When  Mr.  Baker  got  home  that  night,  he 
felt  highly  pleased,  and  in  the  best  humor. 
With  his  open  hand  he  gave  his  wife  a  hearty 
slap  between  the  shoulders,  and  said  :  "  I  told 
you  we  would  be  ready  for  Campbell.  Ha, 
ha!  I  wonder  what  the  great  Dr.  Buster 
now  thinks  of  us !  He  tries  to  make  others  be 
lieve  that  Methodist  influence  is  waning.  I 
fancy  his  notion  is  a  little  changed  already. 
Let  them  send  a  delegate  to  Exeter  Hall,  and 
we  will  show  ourselves  there  too,  by  way  of 
no  thanks.  God  will  prosper  us,  in  spite  of 
all  they  can  do.  Won't  poor  Campbell  pray 
for  us  after  this?  Ha,  ha!" 

Mrs.  Baker,  good  woman,  though  not  at  all 
dissatisfied  at  the  result  of  the  meeting,  was 
yet  more  guarded  in  her  expressions ;  she  saw 
that  Mr.  Capel  was  very  silent :  she  knew  that 
young  preachers,  like  fresh  converts,  are  for  a 
time  very  ardent  and  fraternal,  and  she  did 
not  wish  that  any  thing  should  be  said  to 
make  him  feel  that  her  husband  was  too  sec 
tarian,  or  forgetful  of  his  position  as  a  Chris 
tian  minister.  Nevertheless,  she  was  greatly 
pi  eased  that  the  Presbyterian  scheme  was  de 
feated,  and  her  faith  grew  stronger  and 
stronger  in  the  God  of  Wesleyanism. 

After  Mr.  Capel  had  retired  to  his  r •.;  m  he 

*  See  Note  B. 


felt  like  one  that  had  been  dreaming.  He 
fancied  that  he  still  sat  on  the  platform  :  he 
saw  the  people  before  him  ;  he  saw  the  glare 
of  lights,  and  he  again  heard  the  wild  oonfu 
sion.  Was  it  all  a  dream  ?  He  could  hardly 
realize  that  he  had  been  to  a  church  where  a 
public  meeting  was  to  have  been  held  by  se 
rious  Christian  men,  and  that  from  the  hatred 
of  sects  the  work  of  the  Lord  had  been  en 
tirely  disregarded,  in  order  to  secure  a  secta 
rian  triumph.  Could  he  believe  that  such 
loud  profession  should,  after  all,  be  but  as  "  a 
sounding  brass  or  tinkling  cymbal ;"  that 
men  who  loved  their  Bibles,  and  who  prayed 
and  wept  for  sinners,  should  exhibit  such  ha 
tred  toward  each  other?  Was  this  the  grand 
result  of  what  the  Gospel  had  done  for  them 
— was  this  Christianity?  And  if  that  Gospel 
had  thus  failed  in  controlling  the  impulses  of 
the  semi-civilized  of  Britain,  what  could  it  do 
among  barbarians  at  Madagascar?  He  had 
often  discovered  hypocritical  professors  of  re 
ligion,  but  he  did  not  expect  to  witness  such 
actual  jealousy  and  hatred  among  a  class, 
many  of  whom  had  made  an  open  declaration 
of  faith,  and  who  had  solemnly  testified  that 
they  felt  moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God  to  go  and 
preach  the  Gospel.  Were  these  men  mad  or 
deluded?  Why  were  there  so  many  creeds, 
even  among  Protestants,  bitterly  anathema 
tizing  each  other  as  teachers  of  error  ?  If  the 
Scriptures  were  truth,  and  if  the  truth  was  so 
plain,  why  so  much  contention — why  such  di 
versity  of  opinion  ?  He  then  dwelt  upon  the 
historical  havoc  caused  by  Christianity,  and 
the  solemn  question  arose :  What  has  the  Bi 
ble  done  for  mankind? 

In  times  of  great  doubt  or  perplexity,  Mr. 
Capel  often  resorted  to  the  common  practice  of 
opening  his  Bible,  and  reading  the  first  pas 
sage  or  text  that  met  his  eye.  In  doing  this, 
he  sometimes  thought  that  he  had  found 
many  comforting  assurances.  He  now  opened 
the  "  inspired  book"  in  several  places,  but  con 
flicting  verses  only  caused  greater  depression. 

"  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time."    John  1  : 18. 
"  For  I  have  seen  God  face  to  face,  and  my  life  is  pre 
served."    Gen.  32 :  30. 

"  And  God  saw  every  thing  that  he  had  made,  and 
behold  it  was  very  good."  Gen.  1  :  31. 

"  And  it  repentecjthe  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on 
the  earth,  aim  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart."  Gen.  6  :  6. 

"  For  I  am  the  Lord  ;  I  change  not."    Mai.  3  :  6. 

"For  God  is  not  the  author  of  confusion,  but  of 
peace."  1  Cor.  14  :  33. 

"  I  make  peace  and  create  evil,  I  the  Lord  do  all  these 
things."  Is.  45  :  7. 

"  Out  of  the  mouth  of  the  Most  High  proceedeth  not 
evil  and  good."  Lam.  3  :  18. 

"For  every  one  that  asketh  receiveth,  and  he  that 
seeketh  ftndeth,  and  to  him  that  knocketh,  it  shall  be 
opened."  Matt.  7  :  8. 

"  Then  shall  they  call  upon  me,  but  I  will  not  answer- 
they  shall  seek  me  early,  but  they  shall  not  find  me." 
Prov.  1 :  28. 

"  Let  no  man  say  when  he  is  tempted,  I  am  tempted 
of  God  :  for  God  can  not  be  tempted  with  evil,  neither 
tempteth  he  any  man."  Jas.  1  :  13. 

"  And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things  that  God  cud 
tempt  Abraham."  Gen.  22  :  1. 

"  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God  that 
giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  uot ;  and 
It  shall  be  given  him."  Jas.  1 :  5. 


88 


EXETER    HALL. 


"  He  hath  blinded  their  eyes  and  hardened  their  |  circumstance  in  the  narration.  Certain  ungod 
ueart,  that  they  should  not  nee  with  their  eyes  nor 
understand  with  their  heart,  and  be  converted,  and  I 


heart,  that  they  should  not  see  with  their  eyes  nor  j  jy  correspondents  and  news-mongers  had  sup- 


should  heal  them.    John  12  :  40. 

"  Who  will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and  to  come 
nnto  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.''''  1  Tim.  2  :  4. 

"  And  for  this  cause  God  shall  send  them  strong  de 
lusion  that  they  should  believe  a  lie."  2  Thess.  2  :  11. 

God  delude  men  unto  the  belief  of  a  lie! 
Could  this  be  so? 


plied  exciting  accounts  of  the  fracas  at  the 
Bible  meeting,  and  the  burlesque  of  the  cleri 
cal  actors  thereat  was  made  particularly  ex 
travagant  The  priest  who  was  reading  the 
paper,  Father  Thomas  McGlinn,  was  about  fifty 
years  of  age,  a  stout,  low-sized  man,  with  dark 
hair.  He  had  a  very  red  face,  and  the  top  of 

He  paused  a  long  time,  and  i  his  nose  was  remarkably  florid  ;  and  when  he 
his  finger  still  touched  the  passage  he  had  |  laughed,  he  displayed  a  set  of  teeth  which  with 
just  read.  If  the  Lord  is"  abundant  in  good-  j  ordinary  care  might  be  warranted  to  last  him 
ness  and  truth,"  can  he  or  will  he  ensnare  a  for  another  half-century.  He  was  a  ruddy, 


man  to  his  own  destruction?  This  was  what 
he  now  thought ;  and  the  contradictory  texts 
which  ha  1  opened  to  him  seemed  to  rise  up — 
a  horrible  cloud  of  doubt,  cold,  bleak,  and  des 
olate.  He  was  startled,  and  looked  eagerly 


jovial,  good-natured  looking  person  ;  and  he 
had  to  utter  but  one  won!  to  satisfy  you  of  his 
pure  Milesiau  extraction.  His  ready  wit  and 
humor  were  genuine,  and  would  have  at  once 
obtained  for  him  the  standing  of  a  "  rale  jolly 


around  as  if  hope  and  happiness  had  left  him  i  Irish  gintleuian"  even  though  appearing,  like 
forever.     Again  he  ventured  to  seek  another  j  many  of  his  predecessors,  as  a  missionary  from 


text,  and  read : 

"  The  Lord  is  merciful  and  gracious,  slow  to  anger 
and  plenteous  in  mercy."  Ps.  103  :  8. 

"  His  anger  endureth  but  a  moment."    Ps.  30 :  5. 

"The  Lord  is  very  pitiful  and  of  tender  mercy.  Jas. 
5:  11. 

"For his  mercy  endureth  forever."    1  Chron.  16  :  34. 

These  were  blessed  reassuring  words ;  and 
he  opened  the  book  again. 

"  I  will  not  pity,  nor  spare,  nor  have-mercy,  but  de- 
etroy."  Jer.  13  :  14. 

"  If  I  whet  my  glittering  sword,  and  mine  hand  take 
hold  on  judgment,  I  will  render  vengeance  to  mine  ene 
mies  and  reward  them  that  hate  me.  I  will  make 
mine  arrows  drunk  with  blood,  and  my  sword  shall 
devour  flesh  ;  and  that  with  the  blood  of  the  slain  and 
of  the  captives  from  the  beginning  of  revenges  upon 
the  enemy."  Dent. 

"  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire." 
Matt  25 :  41. 

Agan  he  relapsed  into  despondency !  For 
the  first  time  he  began  to  think  whether  he 
could  really  love  an  omnipotent  Being  who 
was  so  implacable.  He  closed  the  Bible  and 
put  it  aside,  and  then  sat  with  his  head  re 
clined  on  the  table  until  it  was  far  in  the 
night,  thinking  of  the  crimes,  and  battles,  and 
brutalities ;  and  of  the  butcheries,  murders, 
blood,  and  obscenities,  recorded  as  the  author 
ized  transactions  of  a  benevolent  Deity.  He 
shuddered  at  the  fearful  record  ;  it  was  revolt 
ing  !  Was  there  blasphemy  on  his  lips  when 
he  muttered,  "  Good  God !  It  is  like  the  rev 
elation  of  a  fiend !"  ?  Again  he  bent  his  head, 
and  as  the  spectral  shadows  of  his  own 
thoughts  closed  around  him,  he  became 
startled  from  his  reverie  of  skepticism,  to  re 
tire  languidly  to  bed;  and  the  clock  struck 
more  than  one  tedious  hour  before  he  could 
again  visit  the  smiling  friends  and  beautiful 
land  of  his  dreams. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DURING  the  forenoon  of  the  day  after  the 
disturbance  in  the  Baptist  church,  three  priests 
were  leisurely  pacing  up  and  down  the  in 


I  the  Emerald  Isle  to  the  heretical  and  de 
luded  Sassenach.  His  two  companions  were 
also  natives  of  the  same  country,  so  j  ustly  re 
puted  for  its  heroic  men,  and  virtuous  women. 
"  Well,  begorra,  Father  Mick,"  said  he,  raising 
his  fist  and  bring  ng  it  down  on  the  paper 
with  a  whop,  "  fast  day  and  all  as  it  is,  I'd  like 
to  dhrink  the  fellow's  health  that  upset  the 
chairman;  it  was  so  nately  done  as  a  com 
mencement.  Oh  !  divil  a  better." 

"  Faith,  I  wouldn't  mind  to  do  the  same 
myself,"  said  Father  Mick  Daily,  the  priest  on 
his  right,  "  even  if  it  should  come  to  the  ears 
of  the  bishop  that  the  dose  was  a  little  extra." 

"  By  my  sowl,"  said  Father  Tom,  "  Buster,  ay 
they  call  him,  musn't  have  felt  very  comfort 
able  with  such  a  gorsoon  in  his  arms  ;  'twas  an 
affecting  sight.  Didn't  Campbell  cut  a  pretty 
figure  with  his  one  glass  eye  ?  Well,  bedad, 
but  it  was  a  beautiful  row  at  any  rate.  What 
a  blessing  it  was  to  see  the  pack  of  haythens 
pitching  into  each  other  ;  and  if  it  wasn't  foi 
the  cloth,  I  wouldn't  want  better  fun  than  to 
be  there  myself.  'Tis  a  pity  the  ould  joker  of 
a  moderator  didn't  lave  the  sign  of  the  cross 
on  some  of  them  ;  but  sure  that  sign  isn't  iu 
his  track,  and  never  will  be." 

"  And  d'ye  mind  the  Rev.  Jonah,"  said 
Father  Dennis  Lynch,  the  other  priest,  ''  Jonah 
didn't  lave  them  have  their  own  way  for  noth 
ing.  There's  a  dhrop  of  the  blood  in  that  fel 
low.  if  he  had  only  the  training.  He  stood  up 
bef)re  the  moderator  in  rale  style.  That 
sama  Jonah  is  a  whale  in  himself,  and 
wouldn't  mind  taking  a  hand  in,  if  he  had  a 
good  backer." 

"  Och  !  isn't  Baker  a  beauty,"  said  Father 
Tom;  "  swaddler  and  ranter  and  all  as  he  is, 
he  is  able  for  them.  He  gave  the  Knox  men 
a  fall  baker's  dozen  on  the  occasion.  How  tbo 
divil  did  he  escape  a  wall  >ping  at  all  at  all  ? 
It's  a  wonder  that  Buster  didn't  moderate  him 
with  a  pax  tecum  betune  the  eyes." 

"  But,  Father  Tom,  didn't  you  know  that 
Capel  T  asked  Father  Mick. 

"  To  be  sure  he  did,"  at  once  replied  the  Rev. 
Dennis  Lynch  ;  "he  used  to  live  near  Blackpool, 


closed  yard  connected  with  the  Roman  Catholic  in  Cork." 
chapel  at  Moorfields.  They  were  walking  i  "  Oh  !  no ;  you're  wrong,"  said  Father  Tom, 
abreast,  rind  only  the  middle  clergyman  wore  "  Harry  Capel's  father  lived  on  Patrick  street ; 
his  soutane,.  He  was  reading  a  morning  he  was  a  saddler ;  but  whin  I  knew  him,  he 


paper  for  their  edification,   and  occasionally 
they  would  laugh  heartily  at  some  ludicrous 


was  in  the  police.    He  was  a  daycent  creature 
enough  to  be  among  such  a  gang.   Many  a 


EXETER    HALL. 


pot  of  Beamish  and  Crawford's  porter  we  had 
together  b^t'ow  I  went  to  Maynooth." 

"But,  wasn't  he  a  rale  paudreeii?"  asked 
Father  Lynch. 

"  Pauureen  ?  Musha  he  was,  and  he 
wasn't,"  replied  Father  Tom.  "  Divil  a  much 
he  cared  what  he  was,  at  any  rate.  He's 
dead  now,  God  rest  his  sowl  1  'Twould  be 
woll  for  the  ould  sod  if  there  was  more  like 
him  ' 

"  Well,  isn't  this  Capel,  who  is  mentioned 
in  the  paper,  his  son  ?  and  if  he  is,  ho\v  the  mis 
chief  did  he  get  among  the  swaddlers?" 

"Sure  you  know,"  replied  Father  Tom,  "  his 
ould  mother  was  always  among  them,  and  nev 
er  aisy  whin  she  wasn't  psalm-singing  or  street 
begging  for  them  hungry  thieves  of  preachers. 
Her  husband,  poor  Tom  Capel,  left  her  have 
her  own  way  with  the  children,  as  well  as 
with  every  thing  else.  He  didn't  much  care  ; 
in  fact,  it  was  said  that  he  was  one  of  these 
free-thinkers  that  are  now  so  plenty,  and  he 
never  asked  whether  she  went  to  a  Cathedral, 
or  Conventicle,  or  to  Quakers'  meeting  ;  she 
might  go  to  a  Synagogue  for  the  matter  of 
that.  He  used  to  say,  by  way  of  a  joke,  that  if 
there  was  any  difference  they  were  all  alike. 
She,  of  coorse,  hoisted  the  children  away  with 
her.  But,  dod  help  us !  they're  all  dead 
now  ;  Harry  is  the  only  one  left." 

"  Well,  isn't  he  a  swaddling  preacher,  doesn't 
he  rant  along  with  the  rest  'I — Of  coorse  he's 
promoted  to  the  saddle-bags  ?" 

"  Well,  I  believe  he  is  ;  but  sure  his  mother 
wouldn't  let  him  rest  until  he  promised  to  go 
and  do  the  work  of  the  Lord,  rambling  about 
like  a  showman.  I  met  him  by  chance  the 
other  day,  and  he  tould  me  that  they  sent  him 
out  to  Hampstead  witu  ould  Baker.  Someway, 
I  don'i.  think  he  cares  for  that  wandering  kind 
of  a  life.  He's  honest  in  his  error,  anyway ; 
there's  a  good  deal  of  his  father  in  him,  and 
the  Lord  knows  what  he  may  be  yet.  But, 
Father  Dinny,'  said  the  priest,  lowering  his 
voice  to  seriousness,  "  he  is  now  like  ourselves  ; 
lie  is  just  what  circumstances  have  made  him  ; 
exactly  so.  He  has  had  no  control  over  the 
circumstances  of  his  birth,  of  his  country,  or 
of  his  religion  ;  he  is  now  what  he  was  brought 
up  to  be,  and  in  Turkey  he  might  have  beeu  a 
Mussulman,  or  in  India  he  might  have  been  a 
Brau uiin  or  a  Parsee ;  and  so  might  we." 

"  Very  good,  Father  Tom,  very  good ;  if  the 
bishop  heard  all  that,  I  wonder  what  he'd 
think  of  one  of  his  priests  ?  He'd  make  you 
cry  '  inea  culp'i'  during  secula  stcitlomiii,." 

"  Bathershin,  faith  he  might,  Dinny  ;  but 
many  a  time,  in  my  own  qixiet  way,  I've  made 
the  bishop  stagger  a  little  himself,  ay,  just 
while  you'd  be  looking  about  you.  His  mitre 
doesn't  cover  an  inch  more  brain  than  he  got 
from  his  mother,  may  be  not  so  much  ;  and  if 
his  father  had  been  a  Quaker,  the  bishop,  in 
stead  of  wearing  a  mitre,  uiignt  figure  about 
with  a  broad  brimmed  hat  and  a  drab  coat, 
eh,  Dinny?" 

"  Be  me  sowl,"  said  Father  Lynch,  "  you'll 
have  to  say  the  seven  penitential  psalms  | 
backward  for  this,  and  may  be  a  few  dozen 
extra  paters  and  aoes  in  the  bargain.  Och! 
what's  the  use  in  talking  ?  Sure,  we  know  your 
ways.  But  faith,  Tom,  we  must  be  going,  and 


we'll  expect  to  meet  you  at  five.  You  know 
we  can't  have  much  of  a  dinner  to-day — divil 
take  these  fasts — but  any  way,  if  we  don't  have 
any  tiling  stronger  we'll  have  a  noggin  of 
holy  water  and  a  rosary  together.  And,  Father 
Tom,  acushla,  as  I  b'lieve  you've  got  some 
dealings  with  the  Ould  Boy,  after  all  is  over, 
and  if  you're  able  to  stand,  I'll  exorcise  you." 

"  Faith  you  may,  Dinny  ;  but  if  I  was  to  re 
turn  the  compliment,  after  the  job  was  done, 
I  might  only  hear  the  cackle  of  a  goose  in 
stead  of  a  yell  from  your  friend  with  the 
hoof  and  horns."  And  here,  with  mock  piety, 
Father  Tom  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his 
forehead  with  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand. 

A  general  laugh  then  took  place :  the  two 
priests  went  their  way,  and  Father  Tom  was 
left  alone.  For  a  few  minutes  he  continued 
walking  rather  briskly  around  the  consecrated 
building ;  he  then  paced  more  leisurely,  and 
seemed  in  deep  thought,  as  if  bearing  some 
mental  burden  which  caused  him  anxiety ; 
and  he  often  paused,  looking  down  intently  at 
the  hallowed  ground  upon  which  he  stood. 

The  Irish  Catholic  population  of  the  city  of 
London  is  very  large,  and  wherever  the  Irish 
people  go,  the  priest  is  sure  to  follow.  Between 
the  Irish  Catholic  and  his  priest,  there  has  ever 
existed,  not  merely  warm  friendship,  but 
strong  affection  ;  the  presence  of  a  priest  in 
an  Irish  neighborhood  is  almost  indispens 
able,  and,  should  he,  as  is  asserted,  venture  on 
the  occasional  use  of  the  blackthorn  by  way 
of  argument,  or  as  an  incentive  for  the  per 
formance  of  duty,  many  consider  it  his  pri"i- 
lege  and  submit ;  while  with  others  less  under 
control,  it  is  a  matter  which  can  be  soon  for 
gotten.  As  a  general  rale,  it  is  only  regarded 
as  a  friendly  mode  of  persuasion  rather  than 
an  act  of  clerical  tyranny. 

Now,  throughout  the  city  of  London  there 
was  not  a  priest,  no  matter  what  his  degree, 
could  rival  Father  Tom  McGHinn  in  the  affec 
tions  of  the  Irish  Catholics;  he  was  beloved 
even  by  children,  who,  it  must  be  confessed, 
have  a  kind  of  instinctive  dread  of  any  person 
wearing  a  soutane  ;  but  his  heart  overflowed 
with  good  nature,  and  children  forgot  that  he 
was  a  priest  when  they  saw  him  smile.  Then 
he  boasted  of  "  ould  Ireland,"  and  of  his 
countrymen,  and  of  Cork,  his  native  city  ;  and 
at  certain  times  when  he  grew  into  a  peculiar 
ly  soft  mood,  he  would  talk  and  sing  about 
the  "  Bells  of  Shandon,"  and  of  the  river  Lee, 
and  of  Sundays-Well,  until  the  remem 
brance  of  these  fond  things  and  places  filled 
his  good-natured  eyes  with  big  tears ;  and, 
priest  as  he  was,  he  felt  just  as  kindly  disposed 
to  his  countrymen  of  all  creeds  as  if  they 
were  members  of  his  own  church.  Indeed, 
after  all,  he  seldom  judged  of  a  man  by  hia 
nation  ;  nationality  was  an  idea  out  of  which 
he  tried  to  grow :  but  on  occasions  when  he 
used  to  recount  the  wrongs  inflicted  by  Britain 
upon  his  church  and  country,  then  he  asserted 
his  nationality,  and  became  almost  vindic 
tive. 

For  many  years  Father  Tom  officiated  ia 
Cork,  under  the  friendly  eye  of  Doctor  Mur 
phy,  its  Catholic  bishop ;  but  after  the  death 
of  that  prelate,  he  took  a  notion  to  remove  to 
London;  he  was  successful  in  obtaining  a 


40 


EXETER    HALL. 


good  parish,  and  among  the  priests  as  well  as 
among  the  people  of  that  city  he  became  a 
great  favorite.  If,  however,  he  had  many  of 
the  virtues  of  his  countrymen,  he  had  also  a 
few  of  their  failings.  Although  he  had  been 
intimate  for  a  long  period  with  the  late  Father 
Mathew,  and  had  expressed  an  approval  of 
his  temperance  principles,  yet,  with  regard  to 
self-indulgence  in  one  particular,  he  never  had 
strength  of  mind  sufficient  to  turn  up  his  nose 
at  a  tumbler  of  hot  whisky-punch,  that  is 
to  say,  after  a  certain  hour  toward  evening. 
His  adherence  to  the  temperance  pledge,  if  he 
ever  took  it,  only  lasted  during  the  excite 
ment  of  the  time,  and  like  a  majority  of  his 
countrymen  he  relapsed  into  a  usage  almost 
canonical  among  the  clergy. 

He  was,  however,  a  little  singular  in  this 
respect,  he  seemed  to  have  his  appetite  under 
perfect  control ;  for  no  human  being  could  in 
duce  him  to  touch  a  drop  of  strong  liquor  un 
til  after  the  clock  had  struck  three  in  the 
afternoon  ;  he  might  then  take  an  odd  tumbler 
immediately  before  dinner,  just  to  regulate 
his  appetite,  but  when  that  meal  was  over, 
particularly  if  he  had  a  few  genial  friends 
with  him,  he  would  resolutely  confine  his  legs 
under  the  mahogany  and  drink  and  debate, 
and  debate  and  drink,  until  every  opponent 
was  silenced,  or  until  every  man  was  reduced 
to  a  state  of  blissful  oblivion.  On  such  oc 
casions,  Father  Tom  became  fiercely  polemi 
cal,  and  was  rewarded  by  the  sobriquet  of 
"  Controversial  Tom." 

About  the  time  that  Father  Tom  had  im 
bibed  a  dozen  tumblers,  his  eyes  would  attain 
an  unnatural  brightness,  and  he  used  to 
say  that  he  was  then  getting  "  into  good 
tune  ;"  after  that,  no  matter  how  mucli  more 
he  swallowed,  it  seemed  to  have  no  other  ef 
fect  than  that  of  increasing  his  thirst,  and  he 
could  then  be  scarcely  civil  to  any  man  in  his 
company  whom  he  thought  could  not  stand 
the  thirtieth  tumbler. 

To  spend  a  night,  then,  with  Father  Tom 
was  by  many  regarded  as  a  privilege.  After 
his  reverence  got  in  good  tune,  his  pecu 
liarity  was  then  to  become  controversial ;  and 
from  him  there  was  no  escape.  He  would 
badger  away  until  he  found  an  opponent — no 
matter  whether  priest,  parson,  or  pope— and 
he  would  then  argue  from  the  fathers,  and 
from  an  overwhelming  array  of  texts  and 
traditions,  just  as  fiercely  as  if  the  very  fate 
of  his  church  depended  upon  the  issue ;  and 
many  of  his  brother  priests,  knowing  his  weak 
ness,  would  not  let  the  opportunity  pass,  for 
one  or  another  was  always  ready  to  make  an 
attack  and  assume  the  position  of  an  oppo 
nent  in  order  to  draw  him  out  and  hear  his 
defense.  At  such  times,  his  whole  theme 
would  be  his  church  and  its  supremacy,  with 
an  occasional  dash  at  the  apostasy  of  Britain  ; 
and  then,  if  he  even  knew  that  it  was  the 
pope  in  state  who  disputed  with  him,  he 
would  still  argue  away,  quite  indifferent  to 
his  holiness  or  to  the  splendor  of  his  triple 
crown. 

No  two  persons  could  be  more  unlike  than 
Father  Tom  in  the  forenoon  and  the  same 
Father  Tom  in  the  evening.  He  was  humor 
ous  and  good  natured  enough  at  all  times ; 


but  in  the  morning,  when  reason  had  full  con 
trol,  lie  would  be  moro  priest-like,  more  seri 
ous,  and  more  thoughtful ;  in  the  evening, 
when  he  was  less  troubled  with  doubts  ana 
speculations,  he  was  full  of  wit,  and  at  the 
right  stage,  when  fully  primed,  he  would 
mount  the  controversial  hobby,  and  ride  away 
as  if  for  dear  life. 

There  was  some  secret  influence,  however, 
to  work  this  change.  Father  Tom  in  morn 
ing  conversation  often  expressed  strange 
opinions  regarding  many  of  the  rites  and 
doctrines  of  his  church,  and  even  before 
priests  he  would  say  some  very  startling 
things  ;  but  they  said  they  knew  him,  wasn't 
he  " controversial  Tom"?  the  very  divil  for 
argument,  and  what  was  the  use  in  minding 
any  thing  he  said  ?  He  was,  they  asserted, 
sound  to  the  backbone,  a  stout  defender  of 
the  faith.  They  had  often  heard  his  exposi 
tions  after  the  fifteenth  tumbler.  That  was 
the  time  to  see  what  was  in  him.  In,  vino 
veritas. 

Yet  Father  Tom  was  not  understood  ;  for 
years  he  had  been  troubled  with  grave  doubts 
concerning  many  points  of  his  religious  be 
lief  ;  and  while  he  had  to  appear  before  his  co- 
laborers  as  faithful  and  submissive  to  the 
dicta  of  his  church,  and  to  manifest  the  con 
ventional  contempt  and  hostility  toward  hereti 
cal  teaching,  yet  he  dreaded  to  subject  the 
mysteries  and  doctrines  of  his  religion  to  the 
ordeal  of  reason  ;  it  was  an  insatiable  inter 
rogator  !  He  wa«  often  very  much  perplexed, 
and  dreaded  uncertainty.  He  loved  the  great 
old  ecclesiastical  structures  of  which  Peter 
was  the  head.  The  ceremonies  of  the  Romish 
faith  were  grand  and  attractive,  and  it  cost 
him  a  severe  struggle  to  entertain  ideas  which 
were  not  strictly  orthodox.  The  very  exist 
ence  of  doubt  made  him  irritable  at  times,  as 
if  some  rapacious  intruder  had  stealthily  en 
tered  his  dwelling  and  would  not  depart.  He 
tried  to  persuade  himself  into  full  belief ;  and 
thus  it  often  was  tli»t  in  combating  the  views 
of  an  imaginary  opponent,  he  was  in  reality 
trying  to  defeat  himself,  and  get  rid  of  his 
own  doubts  by  force  of  argument  with  an 
other. 

After  his  clerical  friends  went  away,  Father 
Tom  still  continued  pacing  up  and  down  ; 
even  the  noise  and  street  sounds  of  the  great 
city  did  not  seem  to  distract  him  for  a  mo 
ment.  He  had  celebrated  mass  that  morning, 
and  was  in  a  short  time  to  enter  the  confes 
sional.  This  was  a  duty  he  disliked  very 
much,  but  he  dare  not  murmur.  He  was  still 
superstitiously  circumspect  in  the  perform 
ance  of  his  various  obligations  as  a  priest,  in 
the  hope  that  his  faithfulness  in  holy  orders 
might  yet  dispel  his,  doubts,  and  enable  him 
more  clearly  to  understand  and  appreciate  the 
doctrines,  mysteries,  and  imposing  ceremonies 
of  the  "  Mother  Church."  He  was,  in  his  un 
certainty,  still  anxious  to  cling  to  the  anci  ?nt 
faith,  and  to  uphold  its  supremacy  even  while 
he  trampled  upon  his  reason  ;  but,  he  dreaded 
to  investigate  the  authority  for  confession,  and 
indulgences,  and  invocation,  and,  above  all, 
the  authority  for  transubstantiation  ;  this  wa» 
too  great  a  strain  on  his  faith.  He  was  ready 
to  admire  the  shapely  exterior  of  the  sepuL 


EXETER    HALL. 


thre,  but  recoiled  at  the  idea  of  entering  its 
gloom,  to  grope  amid  relics  and  rottenness. 
Between  these  things,  poor  Father  Tom  often 
had  an  uneasy  mind,  while  many  of  the  credu 
lous  faithful  with  whom  he  was  in  constant 
intercourse  believed  him  to  be  the  happiest 
of  men,  and  felt  proud  of  him  as  a  champion 
of  the  church. 

He  was  still  moodily  thinking  ;  and  as  he 
stepped  alone  over  the  inclosed  greensward, 
he  began  to  dwell  upon  what  he  had  said 
that  morning  before  he  administered  the  sac 
rament  to  the  few  devotees  wl>o  were  regular 
attendants  He  thought  again  of  the  formal 
words  he  had  used — wonderful,  if  true — and 
now,  as  he  repeated  them  to  himself,  he  stop 
ped  suddenly  and  frowned  at  their  meaning, 
and  at  his  own  partial  incredulity. 

"  Ecce  Agnus  Dei  —  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God — monstrous !  This  can  not  be  ;  no  matter 
what  either  pope,  or  council,  or  bishop  may 
say  to  the  contrary.  The  simple  wafer  which 
I  held  in  my  hand  this  morning  was  no  more 
the  Lamb  of  God  than  I  am.  Good  God  !  to 
believe  that  I  can  swallow  the  great  Creator 
as  I  would  a  pill !  What  an  outrage  on  my 
reason !  Yet  how  mauy  believe  this  ;  how 
many  of  the  learned  and  profound  submit, 
where  I  doubt !  Am  I  right,  or  am  I  on  the 
great  highway  to  perdition  ?  Heaven  direct 
me !"  And  Father  Tom,  in  his  mental  agita 
tion,  still  stood  looking  intently  on  the  ground, 
as  if  he  waited  and  longed  to  have  the  earth 
open  and  swallow  him  up  forever.  He  then 
commenced  to  walk  rapidly,  and  after  a  few 
minutes,  he  entered  the  church ;  and  as  he  al 
most  involuntarily  bent  before  the  high  altar, 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "  If  this  is  truth,  then 
woe  unto  me,  for  I  am  undone  !" 

Father  Tom  was  very  punctual  that  after 
noon  ;  he  seemed,  or  tried  to  be,  in  good 
spirits,  and  when  he  entered  the  domicile  of 
Father  Dinny  Lynch,  he  swept  in  among 
them  like  a  warm  glow  of  sunshine.  A  more 
jovial  set  of  priest*  never  sat  at  a  table.  Be 
sides  Father  Tom,  and  Father  Mick,  and 
Father  Dinny,  there  were  two  or  three  other 
old  friends,  not  in  orders  ;  and,  although  it 
was  fast-day  with  many  of  the  faithful,  the 
clergy  seldom  or  never  took  the  trouble  to 
apply  for  a  special  license  to  eat  meat ;  the 
privilege  they  might  grant  to  another  they 
could  surely  partake  of  themselves;  and  there 
fore  the  roast  and  boiled  on  Father  Dinny's 
table  appeared  and  disappeared  in  good  time, 
after  which  digestion  was  assisted  by  a  rous 
ing  glass  of  schnlteen,  prepared  by  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Lynch  himself,  after  an  old  receipt  by  one 
of  the  ancient  Irish  Fathers. 

"  Well,"  said  Father  Tom,  after  some  other 
matters  had  been  discussed,  and  who  now  be 
gan  to  feel  very  comfortable  and  loquacious, 
"  I  wish  I  was  on  the  ould  sod  once  more  ;  I'm 
get'ing  tired  of  the  cockneys.  You  may  talk 
as  you  like  about  Saxons  and  Celts,  and  about 
your  big  city — your  modern  Sodom — but  give 
me  the  Island  o'f  Saints  yet,  where  our  church 
ran  count  nearly  fifty  to  one  with  any  other. 
Sure,  here  we  are  "like  wheat  among  tares, 
cheek  by  jowl  with  Baptists,  and  Swaddlers, 
and  Rahtere,  that  are  ready  to  tear  each  other 
to  pieces  for  the  love  of  God.  The  Virgin 


save  \is !  Och !  the  Lord  be  with  you,  sweet 
Cork  !  betune  you  and  me,  I'd  like  to  be  back 
there  now.  Ullagone,  sure  it's  not  in  this  wil 
dernese  of  brick  and  mortar  that  you'd  have 
me  spend  my  days.  Wait,  Dinny  avick,  if  I 
don't  show  you  a  clean  pair  of  heels  it's  no 
matter."  And  Father  Tom  began,  in  a  kind  ol 
regretful  mood,  to  hum  the  "  Groves  of  Blar 
ney,"  an  air  which  always  had  for  him  a  moat 
inspiring  effect. 

"  Tom,"  said  one  of  the  priests,  "  give  us 
Father  Prout's  song ;  you  can  do  it ;  you'll 
never  forget '  Shandon  Bells,'  although  they're 
hung  in  a  Protestant  steeple.  Here's  the  way 
it  goes — " 

"  Arrah,  sure  that's  'Sheela  na  guira '  you're 
trying  to  whistle,  you  ummadhawn  !  Micky, 
allannah,  I  can't  easily  forget  them  bells ;  I 
never  can  !  I  remember  once,  long  ago,  when 
I  was  singing  a  litany,  the  ould  bells  were 
chiming  away,  and  every  now  and  then  I 
thought  they  sent  back  a  longing  response  to 
our  ancient  service ;  and  when  I'd  sing, '  Sanc- 
ta  Maria,'  down  came  the  rushing  sound  in  re 
ply,  like  a  saintly  voice  from  paradise — '  Ora 
pro  nobis.'  Ah  Micky !  I  often  liked  to  hear  them 
of  a  fine  summer's  evening  ;  their  sweet  vibra 
tions  used  to  return  to  me  like  the  hum  of  my 
poor  mother's  soft  song,  when  she  was  putting 
me  to  sleep  long  ago.  God  be  merciful  to 
her !  Amen.  Requiescat  in  pace  !"  And  Fath 
er  Tom,  almost  in  tears,  devoutly  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead. 

"  Well,"  continued  Father  Tom,  wiping  his 
lips  with  his  hand,  and  laying  down  the 
empty  tumbler,  "  there's  a  smack  of  the  rale 
bogwater  about  that,  anyhow.  Isn't  that  from 
Tom  Wise  ?  Faith,  his  distillery  is  only  one 
of  the  few  factories  we  have  left  to  remind 
these  foreigners  of  what  we  once  were.  They 
may  talk  of  their  fabrics,  and  of  their  cattle 
shows,  and  of  their  great  exhibitions;  but 
they  can't  bate  that,  divil  a  bit.  The  dirty 
Thames  is  as  polluted  as  British  royalty  ;  they 
haven't  the  clear  waters  of  the  Lee  to  draw 
from."  He  said  this  as  he  was  diligently 
mixing  his  seventh  tumbler,  and  he  gave  a 
very  meaning  sigh,  as  he  stirred  the  spoon  in 
the  smoking  contents.  "  Micky,  what  are  you 
doing  ?  Don't  be  afeard  of  that ;  there's  not 
a  headache  in  a  whole  puncheon  of  it." 

"  Come,  Father  Tom,  don't  forget  the  song ; 
just  one  verse,  to  begin  with." 

"  Arrah,  Mick,  I  can't  forget  the  bells,  but 
'pon  my  sowl  I  forget  the  song  ;  more  shame 
on  me  f  Let  me  see,  it  goes  this  way — 

'  With  deep  affection,  and  sweet  recollection, 

I  often  think  of  those  Shandon  bells, 
Whose  song  so  wild  would,  In  the  days  of  childhood, 

Fling  round  my  cradle  their  magic  spells. 
Oh— this  I,  I—' 

Och,  divil  take  it.  asking  Father  Prout's  par 
don,  1  can't  make  it  out.  I'm  afeard  I'll  soon 
forget  my  pater  noster,  and  every  thing  else 
that's  good,  if  I  stay  in  this  benighted  coun 
try.  But  stop,  I'll  make  a  verse  for  you." 
He  hummed  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  theu 
began, 

"For  Cork's  own  city,  so  fair  and  witty, 
I'll  sing  this  ditty,  though  fur  away  ; 
And  still  remember,  to  life's  chill  December, 
My  native  town  that's  across  the  say. 


4« 


EXETER   HALL. 


My  heart  is  swelling  for  Sundays-Well,  In 
That  beauteous  quarter  where  you  could  see 

The  bells  of  Shandon,  that  sound  so  grand  on 
The  pleasant  waters  of  the  river  Lee." 

"Bravo,  bravo!  well  done!  illigant ! 
sublime !"  and  then  sundry  heavy  thumps 
made  the  glasses  dance  on  the  table.  "  Put 
that  in  print,  Father  Tom,  and  faith,  your 
fortune  is  made." 

This  was  not  a  labored  impromptu  with  the 
priest.  His  voice  was  soft  and  musical ;  he 
sung  glowly  and  with  great  feeling,  and  the 
words  followed  each  other  in  an  easy  order  of 
versification,  adapted  to  the  popular  air. 

"  I'm  no  poet ;  however,  I'm  glad  you're 
pleased.  But,  Dinny  avick,  if  I  was  a  jaynu- 
ine  poet,  I  might  make  some  verses  that  his 
holiness  the  pope  might  clap  in  the  Index 
Prohibitorius." 

"Sure.  Father  Tom,  you  wouldn't  mount 
your  Pegasus  and  canter  away  from  the 
church  ?  You  wouldn't  write  any  thing,  no 
matter  how  inspired,  that  you'd  be  afraid  to 
let  your  bishop  see  Y" 

"  See  ?  God  help  the  see  tliat  he  blinks  at ! 
Thigum,  he  can't  see  a  hole  through  a  ladder 
sometimes.  I  know  it,  and  Micky,  ould  Wise 
man's  an  afs ;  he  ia,  by  Gor  !" 

"  0  Tom,  Father  Tom,  aisy,  aisy,  aisy  I" 

"  He's  an  ass  I  say,  and  the  prince  of  asses," 
and  Father  Tom  repeated  a  verse  of  the  song 
generally  sung  at  Beauvais,  France,  during 
the  Romish  festival,  in  praise  of  the  ass,  on  the 
14th  of  J  anuary. 

"  Bcce  magnis  anribus !   Subjugalis  filius ; 
Aainus  egregins.  Asinorum  dominus  !"* 

"  See  here ;  the  whole  of  you  are  afraid  of 
that  ould  thief,  but  I'm  not,  divil  a  bit.  He's 
a  half-Spaniard.  What  did  they  send  him 
here  for?  to  be  one  of  our  cardinal  points? 
Bure,  he  wouldn't  let  me  take  a  quiet  smoke 
the  other  night,  he  didn't  want  the  smell  of 
tobacco ;  yet  he  carries  a  gold  snuff-box  to 
stuff  his  own  ould  beak.  I  tould  him  in 
double  quick  time  that  I'd  lave  the  palace  and 
go  to  more  humble  quarters,  somewhere  else, 
and  so  I  did,  there  now. — If  they  had  him  in 
Ireland,  they'd  choke  him." 

It  was  useless  now  to  make  any  attempt  to 
control  Father  Tom.  By  this  time,  he  had 
swallowed  the  twelfth  tumbler;  and  if  the 
Pope  himself  were  to  enter  the  room,  he 
would  face  him  w'ith  a  pipe  in  his  mouth  and 
arms  akimbo. 

Father  Tom,  after  a  moment's  oblivion,  now 
gave  a  disdainful  side-look  around  the  table; 
he  appeared  to  rise  wonderfully  in  his  own  es 
timation  ;  every  doubt  had  almost  vanished, 
and,  champion-like,  he  felt  itching  for  a  brush 
with  an  opponent.  Looking  from  under  a 
frown  at  Ids  friends,  he  began  : 

"  You're  a  Iflt  of  interlopers !  What  do  you 
benighted  heretics  know  K"  And  he  imagin 
ed  for  the  moment  that  he  was  engaged  in  a 
regular  set-to  with  some  stiff  Protestant,  some 
sanctified  aouper  of  the  Establishment. 

I'm  a  priest.    I'm  none  of  your  wolves  in 

*  See  that  broad,  majestic  ear, 
Born  he  is  the  poke  to  wear ; 
All  his  fellows  he  surpasses, 
He's  the  very  lord  of  asses  I 


sheep's  clothing.  I'm  a  priest  of  the  rale  ould 
church  founded  by  Peter  .—D'ye  want  proof? 
•  Upon  this  rock  I  will  build  my  church,  and  I 
will  give  to  thee  the  keys.'  Yes,  the  keys,  ana 
divil  a  in  you'll  ever  get  unless  we  open  thn 
door.  Put  that  in  your  pipe,  and  smoke  it. 
What  do  the  Scriptures  say  ?  '  Many  shall 
come  in  my  name.' — Yes,  a  lot  of  thieving, 
blind  guides,  with  their  tests,  and  their  tracts, 
rummaging  up  and  down  the  country,  beg 
ging,  and  praying,  and  feasting,  and  gorman 
dizing.  Arrah,  the  divil  sweep  them,  but  it's 
a  nice  time  of  day  with  us  whin  we've  got  to 
stand  aside  and  make  way  for  your  snub-nosed 
Busters,  and  Bakers,  and"  Buntings !  Wasn't 
that  a  nice  sample  they  gave  at  the  Bible 
meeting  of  their  Christianity  ?  Begor!  the 
public  papers  say  that  they  went  at  it  on  the 
very  platform,  before  the  whole  crowd  of 
psalm-singers  in  ould  Howe's  conventicle,  and 
sure  they  tumbled  one  fellow  clear  over,  and 
knocked  out  Campbell's  eye  ;  pity  they  spoil 
ed  his  squint !  Och  !  God  be  with  the  place 
where,  if  they  commenced  such  a  row,  we 
could  aisily  get  a  dozen  or  so  of  the  boys  to 
step  in  among  them  with  a  few  blackthorns 
to  leather  free  grace  into  them.  Wouldn't 
there  be  ructions?  Musha,  blessed  be  the  ould 
sod ;  after  all  the  tithes,  and  extortion,  and 
oppression  of  the  gambling  interlopers  of  par 
sons,  they  can't  make  much  headway  there. 
They  may  think  that  they  soften  some  of  the 
hungry  craythers,  once  in  awhile,  whin  they 
come  with  a  bowl  of  soup  in  one  hand  and 
their  dirty  rag  of  a  Bible  in  the  other.  The 
bowl  is  sure  enough  emptied,  and  the  book, 
'printed  by  His  Majesty's  special  command,' 
is  just  as  certain  to  be  left  at  some  huckster's 
stand  on  the  Coal  Quay,  while  Paddy  has  got 
more  than  the  value  of  it  in  his  pocket  in  the 
shape  of  tuppence'  worth  of  tobacco. 

"  Then,  Lord  save  us  !  at  one  of  their  next 
big  missionary  meetings,  or  may  be  at  their 
great  Exeter  Hall,  how  they'll  turn  up  their 
eyes,  while  some  dandy  parson,  or  thieving 
ould  ranter  delights  a  moping  crowd  with 
lying  accounts  of  the  wholesale  conversion  of 
deluded  Papists. — Divil  a  bit  but  'tis  hard  to 
have  patience  with  such  a  gang.  Well,  faith, 
there's  a  few  texts  in  store  for  them.  '  Ye 
serpents,  ye  generation  of  vipers,  how  can 
ye  escape  the  damnation  of  hell  ?'  '  And 
through  covetousness  shall  they  with  feigned 
words  make  merchandise  of  you,  whose  judg 
ment  now  of  a  long  time  lingereth  not,  and 
their  damnation  slumbereth  not.'  '  Let  them 
alone  :  they  be  blind  leaders  of  the  blind. 
And  if  the  blind  lead  the  blind,  both  shall  fall 
into  the  ditch.' — '  Woe  unto  you,  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  hypocrites  1  for  ye  compass  sea  and 
land  to  make  one  proselyte  ;  and  when  he  is 
made,  ye  make  him  twofold  more  the  child 
of  hell  than  yourselves.' — Faith,  there  would 
be  more  truth  in  that  if  it  had  been  written 
'  fen-fold  ;'  but  sure  that's  enough  for  them, 
even  out  of  their  own  book.  We  are  tould  to 
'  let  them  alone,'  and  that  their  '  damnation 
slumbereth  not.'  So  you  see,  there's  comfort 
in  store  for  them  anyhow.  D'ye  hear  that, 
my  friend?"  said  he,  giving  a  self-sufficient 
wink  at  Father  Mick.  "  '  Aures  habent  ct  non 
audient.'  They  have  ears  to  hear,  but  they 


EXETER    HALL. 


will  not  hear.  Bo  gor !  it's  a  wonder  they 
ion't,  for  sure  they're  long  enough." 

Father  Tom  here  drew  another  sigh,  and 
began  to  compound  another  restorative ;  then 
in  a  minute  or  so  he  said,  reflectively,  "  Yea, 
I'm  a  priest  of  the  Holy  Roman  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  Church,  and  I  think  the  divil  a  fear 
of  me  if  I  stay  where  I  am ;  and  now  I  defy 
any  of  you  to  say  that  its  not  the  rale  true 
ould  Mother  Church.  What  d'ye  say  to 
that  ?"  said  he,  looking .  defiantly  at  Father 
Dinny  Lynch,  whom  he  now  took  for  an  oppo 
nent. 

"  Well,"  replied  Father  Dinny,  assuming  a 
controversial  attitude,  "  I  admit  what  you 
say,  I  don't  deny  but  that  yours  is  the  rale 
mother  church,  for  you  know  the  faithful  of 
Rome  always  pay  more  regard  to  the  mother 
than  they  do  to  the  son  " 

This  answer  rather  staggered  Father  Tom  ; 
but  after  a  sliort  pause,  he  quietly  closed  his 
left  eye  and  kept  the  other  on  his  man,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Poor  fool,  I  pity  you."  Then 
quickly  changing  the  point  at  issue,  he  said, 
"  D'ye  mane  to  deny  the  ride  presence  ?  d'ye 
mane  to  deny  that  blessed  mystery  of  our 
church  that  has  puzzled  the  whole  of  you  for 
over  a  thousand  years?  You  won't  say  a  word 
to  that ;  that's  the  belief  that  bothers  your  rai- 
son  and  philosophy  ;  that's  our  prime  mys 
tery.  You'll  niver  get  transubstantiation 
through  your  thick  skulls,  divil  a  bit,  allan- 
nah  !  What  have  you  got  to  say  against  our 
confessional  ?  Doesn't  the  Scriptures  say, 
'  Confess  your  sins  one  to  another '  ?  D'ye 
mane  to  turn  up  your  noses  at  purgatory? 
Faith,  <tvick,  I'm  af'eard  you're  in  a  fair  way 
of  going  a  little  further  down.  Pshaw  !  What 
do  you  know  about  indulgences,  or  penance, 
or  prayer  to  the  blessed  saints  ?  Nothing. 
Nabocldish,  you'll  be  glad  to  have  the  Hill  of 
Howth  tumble  over  and  hide  ye,  some  of 
these  fine  days.  Where  d'ye  get  your  author 
ity,  let  me  ask  you  ?  You  talk  of  your  '  apos 
tolical  succession  ' — a  set  of  fox-hunting,  card- 
playing,  tithe-grabbing,  vagabond  parsons ! 
Succession  indeed!  Bad  luck  to  the  success 
you'll  ever  have.  Lord  help  us!  If  St.  Peter 
was  to  take  a  trip  back  again,  and  see  such  a 
batch  of  greedy  wolves  and  hounds  claiming 
to  be  his  successors,  wouldn't  he  roar? 
Wouldn't  he  burst  his  sides  ?  wouldn't  he 
split  right  open  ?  Faith,  he'd  laugh  at  the  idea 
until  he'd  shake  himself  into  his  very  grave. 
Where  d'ye  get  your  authority?  Tell  me 
that." 

"  Out  of  the  Bible,  to  be  sure,"  said  Father 
Dinny. 

"  Oh  !  of  coorse,  out  of  the  Bible,  the  Bible 
is  your  Pan  lora's  box.  Sure,  you'll  get  au 
thority  in  the  Bible  for  any  tin  >g.  Every 
one  of  your  forty  or  fifty  different  sects  can 
quote  authority  out  of  that  for  their  capers, 
until  their  contention  gets  as  wild  as  a  hurroo 
at  Donnybrook.  Out  of  the  Bible  the  Baptist 
proves  immersion,  and  another  proves  sprink 
ling.  The  Methodist  proves  'free  grace,'  and 
the  Presbyterian  '  election  and  reprobation ;' 
one  to  pray  without  ceasing,  and  another  to 
wait  till  the  Spirit  moves.  In  the  Bible  you 
can  get  authority  for  love  and  for  hatred  ;  for 
peace  and  for  war ;  for  hope  and  dost  air ;  for 


blessing  and  fir  cursing ;  for  revenge  and  for 
giveness  ;  for  faith  and  for  works  ;  for  liberty 
and  slavery,  and  for  almost  every  thing  else  ; 
and  sure  the  divil  himself  on  a  pinch  could 
find  an  odd  text  or  two  for  his  own  justifica 
tion.  Don't  talk  of  the  Bible  and  its  authori 
ty  ;  you're  distracted  yourselves  about  its  rale 
maning  ;  you're  all  pulling,  and  dragging, 
and  hauling  each  other,  scarcely  any  two  of 
ye  thinking  alike.  Expunge,  according  to 
order,  and  what  would  ye  have  left  ?  Divil  a 
bit.  Sure  Luther,  that  bastely  apostate,  began 
at  the  end  of  your  Bible  and  wanted  to  sweep 
away  the  book  of  Revelation  altogether  be 
cause  it  foretold  of  his  own  downfall.  Not  a 
man  (if  ye  is  certain  as  to  what  your  Bible  is ; 
the  blessed  books  which  we  accept  as  canoni 
cal,  you  timidly  reject  as  apocryphal.  Your 
own  commentators  say  that  certain  chapters 
are  doubtful,  or  even  spurious;  others,  that 
whole  books  have  been  lost  ;  one,  that  certain 
texts  are  interpolations,  and  another,  that 
there  are  various  wrong  translations.  You 
talk  of  your  four  Gospels  !  What  do  ye  do 
with  the  other  fifty  or  sixty  which  for  all  ye 
know  have  just  as  good  a  right  to  be  includ 
ed  ?  Why,  it  is  admitted  that-  about  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand  different  readings  of 
ancient  manuscripts  of  the  New  Testament 
have  been  discovered,  and  yet  none  of  youi 
present  writings  are  older  than  the  sixth  cen 
tury  ?  Now  with  these  trifling  facts  staring 
ye  in  the  face,  can  ye  trust  your  Bible — youi 
paper  idol  ?  How  do  ye  know  you're  right  ?" 

"  Well,  and  how  do  you  know  ?"  said  Fath 
er  Dinny. 

"  How  do  we  know,  d'ye  say  ?  Faith,  we 
know  that  according  to  our  feeble  reason  it  is 
impossible  to  regulate  these  matters,  or  to 
reconcile  our  Bible  contradictions,  or  to  tell 
what  is  what  ;  but  we  take  the  interpretation 
of  our  church  without  a  murmur;  we  submit 
to  its  authority.  We  know  we're  right  be 
cause  the  church  is  founded  on  a  rock,  and  can 
not  err  ;  and  then  we  have  our  blessed  tradi 
tions  to  make  us  more  secure.  We  had  them 
before  there  was  a  chapter  of  your  New  Tes 
tament  put  in  writ  ng.  There's  no  danger  of 
us ;  and  if  you  don't  retrace  your  steps,  and 
stop  your  wandering,  and  hurry  back  to  the 
ould  faith,  begorra,  in  coorse  of  time  you'll 
find  yourself  in  a  warm  corner  where  you  can 
roast  a  herring  across  the  pwlm  of  your  hand, 
or  light  your  pipe  with  the  top  of  your  finger. 
Hurry  back,  allannah,  hurry  back  !" 

Father  Tom  continued  in  this  strain  for 
some  time  longer ;  he  had  got  rid  of  every 
doubt,  and  was  once  more  fully  persuaded 
that  the  Roman  Church  was  the  pillar  and 
ground  of  truth.  Between  the  spirits  in  hia 
glass  and  its  effects  upon  his  imagination,  he 
became  at  last  violent  in  his  declamation,  and 
as  unruly  in  his  theology  as  St.  Dominic  hi  in- 
self.  It  was  late  that  night  before  his  proof 
texts  were  duly  arrayed  and  his  denunciationi 
expended,  and  he  would  not  consent  to  retire 
until  all  had  made  due  submission. 

No  person  who  attended  morning  mass  the 
next  day  at  Moorfield's  Chapel  would  for  a 
moment  imagine  that  the  demure  priest  who 
officiated,  and  who  bent  and  bowed  with  such 
graceful  solemnity  before  the  lighted  altar, 


44 


EXETER    HALL. 


was  die  advocate  for  thirty  tumblers,  or  the 
doubting  controversialist — Father  Tom  Mc- 
tilinn. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

HAMPSTEAD  Cottage  never  looked  more 
home-like  and  cheerful  than  it  did  on  the 
bright  April  afternoon  that  Mr.  Capel  and 
Mrs.  Baker  drove  up  to  the  garden-gate  of 
that  pleasant  dwelling.  Although  he  had 
consented  to  make  this  house  his  temporary 
alxxle,  yet  he  never  had  the  curiosity  to  in 
quire  whether  it  was  a  modern  red  brick 
building,  l>olt  up  to  the  street  side,  or  a  mas 
sive  stone  structure  in  the  same  position,  with 
thick  walls  very  little  windows,  and  great 
dreary  looking  gables,  having  acute  angles  of 
the  olden  time ;  he  never  gave  it  a  thought. 
He  was  but  a  wayfaring  man,  content  to 
sojourn  a  few  months  in  one  place,  and  may 
be  a  year  or  more  in  another  ;  and  when  he 
had  formed,  an  agreeable  intimacy  with  a  few 
persons,  he  was  sent  away  to  some  distant 
circuit,  never  perhaps  to  meet  them  again.  It 
was  from  this  that  a  feeling  of  indifference 
had  been  engendered  as  to  where  he  should 
reside ;  but  when  he  saw  the  neat  cottage 
surrounded  by  fine  trees,  and  the  trim  garden, 
and  the  young  buds,  and  the  clear  sun-lit  sky, 
and  heard  the  songs  of  a  thousand  birds,  many 
of  which  seemed  to  flit  with  delight  through 
the  fragrant  air,  the  scene  was  most  agreeable, 
and  one  that  his  fancy  would  have  readily 
created  as  a  picture  of  home. 

But  if  he  never  thought  of  the  house,  he  had 
often  thought  of  its  proprietor.  Mrs.  Manners 
had  already  evinced  her  kind  disposition 
towards  him,  was  in  fact  like  a  mother.  She 
was  also  a  sister  in  the  church,  and  he  well 
knew  that  he  had  her  sympathies  and  her 
payers  ;  her  husband,  however,  the  master  of 
Heath  Cottage,  was  an  entire  stranger  to  him 
personally,  and  not  only  that,  but  according 
to  report,  an  utter  stranger  to  the  truth  of 
God,  and  even.it  was  said,  an  avowed  enemy 
to  the  Christian  faith.  How  could  he  meet 
this  man,  akd  be  content  to  remain  as  Ms 
guest — as  one  of  his  family  ?  V\  ould  he  not, 
by  accepting  this  offer  of  hospitality,  be  often, 
perhaps,  obliged  to  submit  and  listen  to  un 
pleasant  insinuations  against  religion,  or  to 
the  open  blasphemous  attacks  of  an  unbeliever? 
One  who  is  firmly  satisfied  of  the  truth  of  the 
Bible  is  actually  shocked  at  the  bare  idea  of 
infidelity,  and  therefore  presumes  that  a  per 
son  who  can  persistently  reject  inspiration 
must  be  willfully  perverse,  and  should  be  avoid 
ed  as  far  as  possible.  He  is  presumed  to  be  a 
gloomy,  dissatisfied  cynic,  devoid  of  tender 
sympathies,  and  of  the  kindlier  feelings  of 
our  nature ;  a  man  whose  word  is  but  a 
snare,  and  whose  honor  but  a  lie,  whose 
passions  are  under  no  proper  control^  leaving 
him  sordid,  heartless,  and  brutal.  There  was 
no  denying  the  fact  that  the  idea  which  he  had 
formed  concerning  Mr.  Manners  was  not  very 
flattering ;  he  had  been  represented  to  him  by 
Mr.  Baker  ns  a  very  dangerous  person,  whose 
principles  and  character  could  not  meet  the  ap 
proval  of  either  God  or  man. 


Thus  it  is  that  too  often  an  unwarrantablo 
prepossession  may  raise  a  barrier  beu\  een  us 
and  an  estimable  person,  who,  if  better 
known,  might  exhibit  genial  and  intellectual 
qualities  of  a  high  order,  and  with  whom 
intercourse  and  intimacy  might  be  a  source 
of  the  greatest  enjoyment,  by  engendering  a 
friendship  which  would  make  life  more  happy , 
and  even,  after  a  final  separation,  leave  a  ray 
of  light  forever  on  the  memory. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  Mr.  Capel  was  anxious 
to  see  the  individual  under  whose  roof  he  was 
for  a  time  to  find  a  home,  at  whose  table  ho 
was  to  sit,  and  whose  mind  he  was  to  try  and 
impress  with  Gospel  truth.  Judging,  how 
ever,  from  the  surroundings  of  his  habitation, 
the  young  preacher  fancied  that  his  liOft  must 
be  a  lover  of  rural  beauty.  Every  thing 
seemed  to  indicate  the  possession  <  f  the  most 
exquisite  taste  and  love  of  order.  If  such  na 
tural  attractions  gave  a  bent  to  his  mind,  it 
could  not  be  in  a  very  wrong  direction ;  and 
it  might  be,  after  all,  that  the  infamy  which 
some  were  ready  to  attach  to  his  name  was 
but  the  result  of  an  unfair  prejudice  which 
our  present  social  enlightenment  has  not  yet 
repudiated.  Detraction  could  surely  be  no  aid 
to  religion.  He  would  now,  however,  be  soon 
able  to  judge  for  himself,  and  he  would  try  to 
do  so  impartially. 

Such  were  Mr.  Capel's  reflections  while  he 
looked  from  the  vehicle  at  the  gate-side  into 
the  pleasant  garden.  Neither  he  nor  Mrs. 
Baker  had  yet  been  observed  from  the  house 
and,  as  if  by  a  tacit  agreement,  they  sat  still 
to  listen  to  the  warbling  of  birds  from  a  num 
ber  of  cages  by  the  hall  door ;  they  could  see 
the  young  vines  creeping  throuyh  the  trellis- 
work,  and  sunshine  and  shadow  commingling 
around  the  ivied  windows  and  meeting  on  the 
flower-stands ;  and  then  they  heard  the  mel 
low  sound  of  harmony  from  a  piano  and  voices 
in  the  parlor.  Mr.  Manners  and  his  daughter 
were  practicing  a  favorite  duet,  and  as  the  full 
swell  or  diminuendo  reached  the  ear,  Mr.  Ca 
pel,  who  had  a  cultivated  taste  for  music,  al 
most  fancied  himself  at  one  of  the  pearly  gates 
of  heaven  instead  of  being  near  the  entrance 
to  the  residence  of  a  doomed  unbeliever.  He 
still  listened  ;  and  while  this  pleasing  fancy 
lingered,  the  door  opened,  and  out  rushed 
Mary  from  the  house,  as  bright  an  angel  of 
the  earth  as  ever  met  his  eyes.  Mrs.  Manners 
followed,  and  then  came  Mr.  Manners  him 
self;  while  Hannah,  from  one  of  the  dormer 
windows,  shouted  out  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Baker 
Mrs.  Mannors  was  the  first  to  reach  the  gate, 
and  she  impulsively  reached  up  both  hands  to 
Mr.  C'apel  in  a  hearty  shake ;  she  almost 
neglected  Mrs.  Baker,  in  her  eagerness  to 
bestow  her  welcome  upon  the  young  preacher. 
Mr.  Mannors  waited  for  no  introduction,  but 
greeted  him  in  the  kindest  manner,  and  Mr. 
Cupel  was  actually  surprised  at  the  warmth  of 
his  reception.  Mary  Mannors,  now  blushing, 
hesitated  to  approach,  and  with  becoming  dif 
fidence  stood  at  a  short  distance  holding  her 
brother's  hand,  and  waiting  to  be  made 
acquainted  with  their  visitor. 

The  young  preacher's  eyes  wandered  from 
Mary  Manners  to  her  brother,  then  to  Mrs. 
Mannors,  and  then  to  the  courteous  gentle- 


EXETER    HALL. 


man  who  had  so  kindly  welcomed  him,  and 
who  was  now,  without  waiting  for  assistance, 
busily  eagag  :d  removing'  the  small  trii'ik  he 
had  brought  from  Mr  Baker's.  Mr.  Capel 
was  most  agreeably  surprised,  and  fora  fe»v 
moments  watched  Mr.  Mannors  intently.  Is 
this,  thought  lie,  the  person  against  whom  I 
was  warned  ?  Is  this  the  man  whose  dark 
countenance  and  vulpine  aspect  betrayed  the 
unholy  emotions  which  governed  his  mind? 
Is  this  he  whom  Mr.  Baker  h-AS  so  long 
despised,  and  against  whom  he  hits  hurled  so 
many  denunciatory  texts?  Surely  it  can  not 
bo !  tie  found  it  impossible  to  believe  that 
the  gentleman  with  mild,  cbserful  fa<-e,  who 
ha  1  just  assisted  Mrs.  Baker  to  alight,  who 
was  now  leading  her  to  tho  b.ouse,  and  whose 
smile  seemed  so  attractive  to  tliftt  fair  girl 
and  her  delicate  brother,  WP,S  the  Martin  Man 
nors  of  his  imagination --the  gloomy  skeptic, 
themonst.oi*  of  unbelief,  the  denounced  infidel, 
who  made  his  pious  wife  so  miserable,  and  who 
wantonly  treated  divine  revelation  with  so 
much  contempt.  Was  this  the  man  whom  he 
had  to  try  to  warn,  reprove,  and  reform  ? 
Well,  considered  Mr.  Capel,  it'  this  is  to  be 
my  mission  here,  I  havy  a  Lnnier  task  before 
me  than  I  imagined.  Tliore  is  nothing  vi 
cious  lurking  in  his  heart,  there  is  nothing 
dark  or  designing  in  that,  generous  counte 
nance  which  throws  such  a  halo  of  happiness 
all  around.  If  the  he-art  of  man  is  by  nature 
'deceitful  above  all  firing's,  and  desperately 
wicked/'  were  it  not  that  it  would  involve  the 
palpable  contradiction  of  Holy  Writ,  I  should 
say  that  Martin  M armors  was  an  exception 
to  the  general  rule,  and  as  guileless  as  a 
child. 

Had  Mr.  Capel  entertained  any  doubt  as  to 
the  friendliness  of  his  reception  at  Heath 
Cottage,  that  doubt  was  now  effectually  dis 
pelled  by  tae  genuine  kindness  already  shown 
him,  and  by  the  great  satisfaction  manifested 
by  all  uport  his  arrival.  In  fact,  had  he  been 
some  poor  prodigal  who  had  long  wandered 
away  from  his  father's  house,  and  had  now 
r  -turned,  remorseful  and  repentant,  he  could 
not  have  found  a  truer  welcome.  Mrs.  Man 
nors  was  fairly  in  ecstasies,  she  almost  wept 
with  joy  ;  and  never,  since  the  death  of  his 
mother,  had  Mr.  Capel  met  with  any  person 
who  appeared  to  take  such  an  interest  in  his 
welfare. 

His  kind  hostess  was  indeed  joyfully  ex 
cited  :  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Baker,  she  led 
him  around  the  place.  He  was  shown  the 
gar  len,  an  1  the  birds,  and  the  curiosities  in 
tho  hall ;  he  was  taken  to  different  rooms,  an  1 
then  she  led  him  to  the  comfortable  apart 
ment  placed  at  his  disposal,  where,  to  his  sur 
prise,  he  found  a  number  of  theological  works 
side  by  side,  for  his  edification.  There  stood 
Baxter,  Doddridge,  Pascal,  Paley,  Wesley, 
anil  many  others,  besides  memoirs  and  com 
mentaries  sufficient  to  afford  him  ample  range 
for  study  ;  and  he  was  still  more  surprised  to 
learn  that  these  works  had  been  carefully 
read  by  Mr.  Mannors  himself.  Upon  owning 
several  of  them,  he  discovered  numerous  mar 
ginal  notes  in  his  writing,  illustrative  of 
olose  reading,  and  of  the  great  interest  taken 
in  the  contents  by  the  reasoning  skeptic. 


After  having  tried  to  interest  him  with  other 
matters,  Mrs.  Mauuors  did  not  forget  to  re 
mind  him  of  the  task  she  wished  him  to  un 
dertake  respecting  her  husband.  She  said 
she  had  no  doubt  whatever  of  /iis  success,  for 
her  prayers  in  his  behalf  had  been  constant ; 
and  even  her  dreams  led  her  to  believe  that 
(iod  was  waiting  to  be  gracious,  and  would 
not  be  forgetful  of  his  promise. 

Were  it  asserted  that  Mr.  Mannors  was  in  a 
happier  mood  than  usual  that  evening,  it 
miglit  not  be  strictly  correct.  He  was 
peculiarly  blessed  with  a  very  agreeable  dis 
position  ;  scarcely  any  thing  seemed  to  affect 
his  equanimity.  Persons  who  had  known 
him  intimately  for  years  seldom  discovered 
any  difference  in  his  manner.  He  was  always 
happy,  always  indifferent  to  the  bauble  hon 
ors  which  so  much  engrossed  the  pious  as 
well  as  the  profane ;  and  those  who  felt 
gloomy  or  depressed  before  they  had  spoken 
to  him  of  their  troubles  generally  went  away 
more  hopeful.  Whether  Mr.  Mannors  had 
discovered  something  in  the  unassuming 
modest  demeanor  of  Mr.  Capel ,  or  whether  it 
was  the  superior  glow  of  intelligence  in  the 
face  of  the  young  man  that  excited  an  unusu 
al  interest,  it  could  not  be  denied  but  that  the 
master  of  Heath  Cottage  was  particularly 
happy  that  evening.  He  had  found  a  new 
friend  ;  and  without  waiting  to  ascertain  what 
his  peculiar  views  might  be  on  this  or  that 
subject,  he  felt  intuitively  that  the  young 
preacher  was  a  person  of  superior  mind,  and 
who,  from  the  tenor  of  his  remarks,  was  pos- 
sess.-d  of  a  liberality  not  permitted  by  strict 
theological  training  ;  he,  no  doubt,  anticipated 
much  pleasure  in  his  society,  especially  as  he 
was  now  for  a  time  to  be  an  inmate  of  Heath 
Cottage,  and,  as  it  were,  a  member  of  the 
family  ;  but  he  had  not  the  least,  idea  that 
Mr.  Capel's  visit  was  so  contrived  by  Mrs. 
Mannors  as  to  make  it  a  special  mission  for 
the  benefit  of  himself,  her  erring  husband. 

For  a  young  man,  Mr.  Capel  was  gifted 
with  great  power  of  discrimination ;  not 
judging  Mr.  Mannors,  therefore,  by  his  favor 
able  appearance,  but  from  the  acute  observa 
tions  made  by  him  on  many  subjects,  he  wa» 
astonished  at  his  great  intelligence,  and  at 
the  vast  powers  of  his  mind.  Though  but  a 
very  short  time  in  his  society,  he  was  inclined 
to  think  that  he  had  never  met  his  equal.  No 
matter  what  any  person  m  ght  assert  con- 
corning  the  peculiar  religious  views  of  such  a 
man,  a  mind  like  his  was  too  fearless  and 
comprehensive  to  reject  any  proposition  with 
out  its  due  share  of  consideration.  He  al  ready 
felt  that  with  Mr.  Mannors  there  would  be  no 
necessity  of  going  round  and  round  in  or  i^r 
to  ask  a  fair  question  and  demand  a  fair 
answer ;  he  found  in  him  one  who  was  quite 
willing  that  you  should  know  his  opinion  on 
any  proper  subject,  and  ever  ready  to  givo 
the  reasons  which  led  him  to  a  conclusion  ; 
that  he  was  a  person  as  willing  to  learn  as  to 
teach,  and  one  before  whom  you  might  lay 
your  opinions,  in  full  confidence  that  he  would 
deal  justly,  and  give  a  true  verdict  according 
to  the  evidence. 

The  mission,  therefore,  whioli  Mr.  Capel  had 
timidly  undertaken  was  no  longer  dreaded ; 


EXETER    HALL. 


it  was  now  to  be  a  source  of  pleasure  instead 
of  a  reluctant  effort ;  and  the  repugnance 
which  he  might  have  once  felt  in  complying 
with  the  mutual  desire  of  Mrs.  Mannors  and 
Mrs.  Baker  continued  no  longer. 

The  two  persons  who  but  a  few  hours  be 
fore  were  utter  strangers  to  each  other  were 
now  seen  arm  in  arm  walking  around  the 
garden,  and  engaged  in  agreeable  conversa 
tion.  It  was  evident  that  an  acquaintance 
had  been  already  formed  which  would,  in  all 
probability,  continue  for  a  long  time.  It  was 
pleasant  to  see  them  thus  together  as  they 
wandered  through  the  winding  walks,  or 
standing  in  friendly  debate  in  the  shadow  of 
eome  huge  evergreen.  Both  were  lovers  of 
nature,  and  occasionally  paused  to  see  the 
evening  sunlight  rush  down  in  bright  streams 
through  the  moss-covered  branches  of  venera 
ble  trees,  and  to  hear  the  soft  whispering  of 
young  leaves.  It  was  cheerful  to  see  this, 
and  to  hear  the  hearty,  joyous  laugh  of  Mr. 
Mannors  as  he  related  some  anecdote  which 
almost  convulsed  his  friend  with  laughter, 
bringing  tears  to  his  eyes. 

Mrs.  Mannors  was  very  much  interested. 
She  watched  the  progressive  intercourse 
which  was  now  gradually  begetting  that  con 
fidence  most  desirable  between  the  young 
preacher  and  her  husband.  She  hurriedly 
left  Mrs.  Baker,  in  order  to  have  a  talk  with 
Hannah  upon  the  subject.  After  a  time,  she 
went  up  to  her  room,  and  looked  down  into 
the  garden,  to  observe  the  two  persons  in 
whom,  for  the  moment,  she  felt  most  inte 
rest.  She  was  very  much  gratified ;  her 
fondest  dreams  would  be  surely  realized. 
There  they  were,  husband  and  preacher,  the  un 
believer  and  the  expounder  of  truth,  in  cheer 
ful  conversation  on  subjects  of  mutual  interest ; 
there  they  stood,  like  two  old  friends  that 
had  met  once  again,  or  more  properly,  like  the 
meeting  of  a  fond  father  and  dutiful  son,  who 
had  been  long  parted.  What  but  good  could 
she  expect  from  such  a  beginning?  How  dif 
ferent  was  the  manner  and  bearing  of  the 
young  preacher  compared  with  that  of  his 
superintendent.  Whenever  Mr.  Baker  ven 
tured  to  call  on  her,  and  that  was  as  seldom 
as  possible,  though  treated  with  the  great 
est  courtesy  by  her  husband,  his  words  to  him 
were  few  and  commonplace ;  and  during  a  short 
stay,  he  was  reserved  and  moody  while  in 
his  presence.  No  wonder  that  she  felt  pleased  ; 
and  now,  as  she  stood  at  the  dormer  window, 
with  the  light  of  the  pure,  bright  evening 
sky  around  her,  burnishing  the  gilt  picture- 
f  ramu,  and  flashing  on  the  mirrors  of  her  room, 
and  thus  mingling  with  the  radiant  smile 
upon  her  face,  she  looked  like  a  happy  wife, 
and  the  mistress  of  a  happy  household. 

Every  one  in  Heath  Cottage  that  afternoon 
was  pleased  at  the  arrival  of  Mr  Capel.  Ro 
bert,  the  trusty  man  of  all  work,  was  quite 
satisfied.  He  fully  expected  to  see  some  dark- 
visaged,  morose  person  drive  up,  and  cast  a 
shadow  about  the  place,  dark  as  a  thunder 
cloud.  "  But,  Lor,  bless  you  !"  said  he,  as  he 
was  rubbing  down  Mr.  Capel's  horse,  which 
was,  for  the  time,  to  be  an  additional  charge, 
"  Lor  bless  you'Master  William,  no  one  would 
take  him  to  be  one  of  these  Methodees.  Least 


ways,  I  wouldn't  Why,  he  bean't  no  more 
like  one  than  I  am  ;  that  is  to  say,  if  he  hadn't 
that  ere  white  choker  on  him  1  hope  as 
mistress  won't  be  disappointed.  He  don't 
look  like  a  moping  chap,  that's  always  a  pray 
ing  and  looking  miserable.  You'd  think  that 
them  ere  coves  what  brings  us  the  tracts  on 
Sunday  morning,  were  under  sentence  of 
death,  and  had  nothing  to  do  hut  go  straight 
to  old  Bailey,  and  get  tipped  off.  He's  not  like 
them  ;  he'd  do  better  for  one  of  these  big  par 
son  chaps,  only  he's  a  great  bit  too  civil." 

'•  I  like  him  very  much,  indeed  I  do,"  said 
William  ;  "  and  so  does  ma  and  pa  ;  and  Mary 
says  he  has  got  sucfli  a  nice  face  and  curly 
hair.  Oh !  yes,  we  all  like  him — Hannah  and 
all,  and  Mary,  too." 

"  Does  she  ?  Well,  that's  a  go !"  said  Ro 
bert,  giving  a  curious  wink  at  the  wall,  and 
stroking  his  whiskers  during  a  little  pause. 
"  Oh  !  yes,  may  be  Miss  Mary  will  like  him  a 
bit,  as  well  as  yourself;  quite  natr'l  like." 

"  She  dogs,"  replied  William,  in  all  simplici 
ty  ;  "  she  says  that  she's  very  glad  he  came, 
and  we  expect  to  have  some  pleasant  walks 
together.  You  know,  Robert,  the  summer 
time  is  coming,  and  we  shall  have  plenty  of 
nice  evenings  and  mornings,  and,  you  knoAv, 
if  I  am  poorly,  she  will  have  some  one  to  go 
out  with  her ;  that  is.  if  pa  is  away." 

"  Yes,  so  I'm  thinking,"  said  Robert ;  "  but 
may  be  mistress  may  keep  him  a  praying  all 
t>ieday,  leastways,  when  he's  here.  You  know 
those  Methodees  have  to  be  a  praying  or 
preaching  more  than  half  the  time,  and  the 
other  half  they're  begging.  But  I  think  he 
won't  do  much  that  way.  Your  pa  will  keep 
him  busy.  Yes.  I  think  he'll  have  some  sport 
with  him  ;''  and  Robert,  who  was  not  strictly 
orthodox,  kept  brushing  and  rubbing  away  at 
the  preacher's  horse,  which  found  himself  in 
good  quarters 

Hannah  and  Mrs.  Baker  had  been  in  con 
versation  together  for  some  time  before.  Mrs. 
Mannors  again  joined  them,  and  when  the 
latter  made  her  appearance,  she  looked  de 
lighted,  and  began  to  tell  how  her  husband 
and  the  young  preacher  had  become  such 
friends,  and  how  she  thought  that,  instead  of 
having  to  travel  away  alone  any  more  to  hear 
the  "  Word,"  they  might  before  long  witness 
a  great  change.  It  would  be  something  won 
derful  to  see  Mr.  Mannors  a  regular  atten 
dant,  and  may  be  a  member  of  a  class,  or  even 
a  classleader.  Would  it  not  be  a  great 
thing  to  see  him  start  away  early  every  Sun 
day  morning  to  distribute  tracts  among  the 
ungodly,  instead  of  remaining  at  home  as  he 
now  did.  reading  newspapers,  and  maga/.ines, 
and  dreadful  books  against  religion,  or  talk 
ing  about  politics,  or  reform,  to  people  of  his 
own  sort,  who  called  to  sen  him  ?  No,  it  would 
not  be  too  much  to  expect  to  see  him  occupy 
a  place  on  the  missionary  platform,  either  in 
their  own  church,  or,  on  greater  occasions,  at 
Exeter  Hall.  "  I  feel  certain,"  said  Mrs. 
Mannors,  "  from  what  I  witnessed  th«  other 
morning,  that  Mr.  Capel  will  be  able  to  in 
fluence  all  within  this  house ;  and  may  God 
grant  it." 

"  Well,  ma'am,"  said  Hannah, "  I  never  saw 
a  person  I  could  be  more  pleased  with  thaa 


EXETER    HALL, 


our  young  preacher  ;  it  ia,  you  know,  only  a 
short  time  since  I  first  laid  eyes  on  him  ;  he 
is  the  one  we  need.  He  is  the  evangelist  that 
is  to  lead  poor  Christian  to  the  city  gates.  I 
believe  he  will  yet  work  a  miracle  in  this 
house.  I  feel  like  poor  Hopeful  in  the  '  Pil 
grim's  Progress,' when  Christian  was  ready  to 
sink  in  deep  waters.  I  can  now  say,  '  Be  of 
good  cheer,  sister,  I  feel  the  bottom,  and  it  is 
good.'  Let  Mr.  Capel  have  his  own  way 
awhile,  and  all  will  i  e  right.'' 

"  Goodness  knows,  I'm  sure  I  hope  you  have 
got  to  the  bottom  of  your  trouble,  any  way," 
responded  Mrs.  Baker.  •'  What  a  blessed 
thincr  it  is  to  be  able  to  trust  in  the  Lord  ; 
when  all  fails,  one  can  rely  on  him.  Have 
faith,  and  every  thing  else  will  follow.  Oh ! 
what  answers  I  have  had  to  the  prayer  of 
faith.  I  remember  once,  when  I  lived  with  my 
brother,  that  it  rained  for  nearly  three  weeks 
in  harvest  time,  and  his  sheafs  of  wheat  were 
almost  rotting  in  the  field.  I  went  to  my 
room  and  pretended  to  be  sick,  and  fasted  a 
whole  afternoon,  and  oh !  how  I  prayed  to  the 
Lord  for  dry  weather.  Well,  my  dear,  I  slept 
that  night  in  full  faith,  and  in  the  morning 
when  I  awoke,  bless  the  Lord  !  there  was  the 
sun  shining  right  in  on  the  bed-clothes.  There 
was  the  answer  to  my  prayer.  When  I  got 
up,  I  was  all  praise  ;  I  read  the  one  hundred 
and  third  Psalm,  and,  bless  the  Lord !  ate  a 
most  hearty  breakfast.  It  was  afterward  dry 
tor  a  full  week." 

"Well  then  again,  dear,  but  you  know  I 
wouldn't  tell  this  to  any  one  else,  I  was  a  kind 
of  dependent  on  my  brother,  and  I  was  anx 
ious  to  get  settled  in  life.  I  wanted  to  get 
married,  and  day  and  night,  and  night  and 
day,  I  prayed  to  the  Lord  without  ceasing. 
Bless  you,  how  I  did  pray !  I  prayed  for  a 
good  husband.  Well,  I  went  at  once  and 
joined  the  church,  attended  class,  distributed 
tracts,  attended  Sunday-school,  made  good 
collections,  and  went  to  every  tea-meeting  in 
the  circuit ;  and  as  soon  as  I  laid  my  eyes  on 
James,  and  found  that  he  wanted  a  good  wife, 
I  worked  and  prayed  harder  and  harder,  and, 
again,  bless  the  Lord !  he  answered  my 
prayer,  and  we  were  married.  Now  I  give 
you  these  as  undoubted  proofs  of  what  prayer 
and  faith  can  do  ;"  and  then,  giving  Hannah 
a  sly  wink  and  a  little  punch  on  the  ribs,  she 
leant  over  and  said  to  her  in  a  half  whisper, 
"  Go  thou  and  do  likewise. "  "  Yes,  my 
dear,"  continued  Mrs.  Baker,  "  I  hope  your 
trouble  is  nearly  over.  The  Lord  can  work 
wonders  through  the  lips  of  his  chosen  ser 
vants  ;  but  we  must  not  forget  prayer. 
'  Prayer  moves  the  hand  that  moves  the 
world.'  "  And  this  pious  hand-maid  concluded 
by  repeating  an  appropriate  verse  from  one  of 
Wesley's  hymns. 

While  these  friends  were  trying  to  assure 
each  other,  Mr.  Capel  entered  the  parlor  to 
hear  a  duet.  Miss  Mannors  had  just  taken 
her  seat  at  the  piano,  and,  at  that  moment,  one 
of  the  latest  sunbeams  of  that  beautiful  even 
ing  shot  in  slantwise  through  the  shining 
window,  and  rested  on  her  golden  brown  hair 
and  on  its  waving  curls  like  a  nimbus  around 
the  head  of  an  angel.  Mary  never  looked 


more  radiant.  There  she  sat.  the  folds  of  her 
white  dress  falling  around  her  in  graceful 
lines,  and  developing  a  form  perfect,  at  least 
in  the  eyes  of  the  young  preacher,  who  now 
stood  nervously  by  her  side  prepared  to  turn 
over  the  pages  of  music. 

During  the  performance  of  the  piece,  Mr. 
Capel  would  have  liked  to  mingle  his  voice 
with  the  sweet  strains  which  now  met 
his  ear  and  charmed  him  away  once  more 
to  his  old  home  and  to  other  endearing 
scenes,  but,  he  must  remember,  was  he 
not  a  preacher?  were  not  all  such  recrea 
tions  allurements  which  might  draw  him 
aside  from  the  path  of  duty,  as  they  had 
drawn  others  ?  No  ;  these  tilings  must  be 
avoided,  must  be  even  despised  for  the  Cross. 
Alas !  was  it  not  a  heavy  cross  to  carry,  to  be 
obliged  to  reject  and  cond-mn  what  he  could 
not  help  feeling  was  intellectual  and  human 
izing?  Was  it  not  a  heavy  cros^  for  one  of 
excellent  taste,  to  be  content  with  the  many 
dry,  dreary,  droning,  and  naked  intonations 
embodied  in  church  music,  and  to  seldom  rise 
above  "  Cambridge,"  "  Devises"  the  "  Old 
Hundredth,"  or  above  solemn  or  mournful  an 
thems,  sometimes  sung,  but  seldom  well  per 
formed  ?  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  ever 
willingly  gave  way  to  the  seductive  power  of 
secular  music,  it  might  be  only  the  first  step 
downward  in  a  course  of  spiritual  ruin. 

For  the  time,  there  was  a  rebellion  between 
nature  and  grace.  Could  it  be  sinful  to  in 
dulge  in  harmony  that  was  so  elevating,  so 
pure?  Were  not  the  angels  in  heaven  thus 
engaged,  and  was  it  not  one  of  the  enjoyments 
of  the  blest  in  their  home  of  eternal  rest  ? 
Would  it  be  wrong  for  him  to  mingle  his 
voice  with  the  soft  sweet  music  made  by  that 
innocent  girl  ?  It  could  not  be  ;  and  as  he 
stood,  listless  as  a  statue,  he  never  felt  a  re 
straint  more  galling  than  that  which  now 
prevented  him  from  joining  in  such  a  delight 
ful  exercise. 

Song  after  song  was  sung  by  Mr.  Mannors 
and  his  daughter,  and  the  poetry  and  musical 
composition  were  most  suitable  for  the  time 
and  place.  The  s  mlight,  had  faded  away,  but 
so  gradually  that  the  mellow  moonbeam  was 
now  its  mild  substitute.  And  the  oblong  patch 
of  silvery  light  that  was  then  seen  on  the  car 
pet  beneath  the  window  was  an  agreeable 
evidence  of  the  quiet  transition. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  dur'ng  a  pause 
after  the  piece  was  concluded,  "  I  do  not  know 
how  it  may  be  with  others,  but  music  has  the 
happiest  effect  on  me  ;  to  be  a  day  without  it 
would  be  a  deprivation  I  should  feel  very 
much.  Morning  and  evening,  for  years,  I 
have  had  music  as  regularly  as  other  people 
have  had  prayer.  Indeed,  what  they  say 
prayer  is  to  the  devotee,  music  is  to  me ;  it  ia 
my  religion,  it  is  my  prayer ;  for  the  heart 
may  want  words  that  music  alone  can  supply  ; 
and  when  I  worship  nature,  I  worship  her  in 
music.  Then,  under  its  inspiration,  I  have 
often  soared  away  in  fancy.  I  often  wish  that 
I  could  leave  the  world  and  its  discord  forever, 
provided  I  could  find  some  poet's  happier 
sphere,  and  if  I  only  had  those  I  love  to  ac 
company  me.  Isn't  that  the  way,  Pop  ?"  and 


EXETER    HALL. 


he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  head  of  his  fair 
daughter,  and  then  looked  into  her  blue  eyes 
as  if  to  read  her  thoughts. 

"  Indeed,  pa,  I  have  no  doubt  as  to  your 
mode  of  worship,  and  I  think  you  are  some 
times  inspired.  You  dream  in  music  as  well 
as  in  sleep.  I  know  for  certain  that  you 
travel  away  occasionally  where  I  could  not 
follow.  The  other  evening,  after  I  had  fin 
ished  one  of  Mendelssohn's  '  Songs  without 
Words,'  you  must  have  started  off  somewhere, 
for  when  the  modulations  died  away,  there 
was  a  hush,  and  you  stood  mute  and  absent 
for  nearly  a  minute  ;  waiting,  I  suppose,  to 
return  with  an  echo  from — " 

"  From  the  Summerland,"  said  her  brother 
quietly.  William  appeared  very  delicate,  and 
had  hitherto  sat  gazing  in  a  kind  of  musical 
revery  at  his  sister's  beautiful  face.  "  How  I 
should  like,  Pop,  if  I  was  dying,  to  be  allowed 
to  go  away  by  the  light  of  such  moonbeams, 
and  that  you  and  pa  would  sing  that  nice 
lullaby  for  me  before  I  left  for  the  spirit-land. 
I  like  to  hear  that  song  when  I  am  falling 
asleep.  If  I  have  to  go,  won't  you  sing  it  for 
me?  Yes,  Pop,  you  must  sing  with  pa,  and 
I  will  hear  your  voices  in  the  Summerland, 
won't  you  ?" 

"  What  is  my  darling  saying  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Mannors,  rushing  over  to  him  and  clasping 
him  in  her  arms.  "  What  is  my  darling  say 
ing  about  the  spirits,  or  about  the  Summer- 
land  ?  You  shall  not,  you  shall  not  go,  dear ; 
you  must  stay  with  me.  Why,  my  dear  child, 
do  you  speak  that  way  ?"  said  the  already 
terrified  mother ;  "  who  paid  that  you  should 
ever  leave  me  ?  We  will  never  part,  my  dear, 
never,  never,  never !" 

He  still  sat  and  looked  up  at  her  with  a 
faint  smile  ;  the  moonlight  was  upon  his  face, 
giving  it  a  strange  pallor,  and  then  an  ex 
pression  of  seriousness,  as  if  he  understood 
what  he  had  said,  and  wished  to  give  a 
warning. 

These  remarks  made  by  William  so  unex 
pectedly,  and  at  such  a  time,  had  a  singular 
effect  upon  every  person  present,  especially 
upon  Mary  who  was  much  overcome  ;  and  it 
required  all  the  persuasion  which  Mr.  Man 
nors  could  use  to  induce  his  wife  to  suppress 
her  feelings.  Her  agitation  was  great ;  ehe 
had  but  just  entered  the  room,  and  had  heard 
every  word  of  the  boy's  strange  request.  Her 
emotions  were  such  only  as  a  mother  could 
feel. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Mannors, 
"  that  William  is  often  very  much  depressed. 
This  infirmity  will  wear  away  as  he  grows 
older ;  he  requires  more  exercise  in  the  open 
air.  A  boy's  mind  is  easily  affected.  Hannah 
has  been  telling  him  about  the  spiritualists 
and  about  circles  and  manifestations ;  and 
about  Bunyan's  heroes,  Christian,  Evangelist 
and  Faithful  ;  and  about  the  Summerland 
or  Happy-land.  And  you  remember  you 
told  him  only  yesterday  about  the  beautiful 
island  you  had  seen  in  your  dream,  and  how 
you  saw  him  there,  walking  in  a  garden  where 
there  were  such  beautiful  flowers,  and  then 
resting  under  the  shade  of  such  fine  trees  by 
the  side  of  clear,  sparkling  streams,  among 
happy  children  who  had  been  many  years 


dead,  and  most  of  whom  you  had  known 
when  you  were  a  child.  You  know  that  such 
dream-stories  can  only  leave  a  melancholy 
impression ;  even  older  persons  have  been 
sadly  controlled  by  similar  imaginations. 
Indeed,  I  am  rather  surprised,"  said  he,  some 
what  gayly,  "  that  we  are  not  all  in  the  same 
dreamy  mood.  Here  we  have  been  for  the 
ast  hour  with  music  and  moonlight,  and  you 
ought  to  know  something  of  their  influence 
>y  this  time."  He  addressed  the  last  remark 
o  Mr.  Capel,  and  then  sung  in  an  undertone 
,he  first  lines  of  the  old  song, 

"  Meet  me  by  moonlight  alone 
And  it's  then  1  will  tell  you  a  tale. 

This  happy  turn  had  its  desired  effect,  and 
nearly  brought  back  the  cheerfulness  which 
lad  been  interrupted.  In  a  few  minutes,  every 
shadow  had  disappeared  ;  and  when  the  lamps 
were  lighted  and  the  heavy  curtains  let  fall 
over  the  windows,  the  moonlight  disappeared 
>om  the  room  also.  But,  ah  !  there  might  be 
shadows  lurking  that  the  brightest  light 
could  not  dispel  ;  there  might  be  gloom  that 
;he  noonday  sun  could  never  chase  away. 
What  a  pity  !  Already  a  shadow  was  stretch 
ing  out  that  was  destined  to  rest  upon  Mary's 
flair  brow,  and  already  the  first  faint  trace  of 
care  had  left  a  little  furrow  nestling  close  to 
the  golden  ringlets  which  hung  from  her 
classic  head  in  such  rich  profusion.  It  was 
affecting  to  witness  the  efforts  made  by  Mary 
to  enliven  her  brother.  Like  a  true,  loving 
sister  as  she  was,  she  resorted  to  various  little 
methods  to  cheer  away  his  temporary  depres 
sion.  She  sat  close  by  his  side  and  ran  her 
fingers  through  his  hair,  and  put  her  lips  to 
his  ear  repeatedly,  whispering  something 
that  made  him  smile  ;  and  then  she  led  him 
from  the  room  to  talk  to  Hannah  and  Robert 
in  the  kitchen.  During  the  remainder  of  the 
evening,  she  scarcely  left  him  ;  she  would  not 
allow  him  to  brood  alone  for  a  moment ;  and  it 
was  not  longbefore  her  winning  wnys  and  lov 
ing  smiles  restored  him  to  boyish  forgetful- 
ness. 

In  a  short  time  afterward,  when  all  were 
seated  in  the  pleasant  room  at  the  supper-ta 
ble,  and  when  the  bright  lamp-liglns  where 
reflected  in  a  circle  of  smiling  faces,  Mr.  Man 
nors,  as  the  genial  friend  and  hospitable  host, 
appeared  to  great  advantage.  He  had  the  fa 
culty  of  making  people  feel  happy,  and  now 
he  related  several  anecdotes  which  were  both 
humorous  and  instructive. 

Mr.  Capel's  first  evening  in  his  new  home 
was  one  which  he  said  he  could  not  forget : 
his  first  meal  was  most  appetizing.  Even 
Mrs.  Baker,  who  was  generally  rather  cold 
and  formal  toward  Mr.  Mannors,  now,  for 
once,  relaxed  her  frigid  demeanor.  There 
was  no  remark  made  that  could  offend  her 
religious  sensibilities ;  there  was  no  unplea 
sant  innuendo.  Mrs.  Mannors  might  tell  of 
her  dreams  or  visions,  or  allude  to  the  dis 
turbance  at  the  Bible  meeting,  or  speak  of 
ministers,  or  of  ministers'  wives,  of  mis 
sions  or  Mohammedans,  just  as  she  pleased, 
without  eliciting  a  word  from  Mr.  Mannors 
that  might  be  taken  as  a  slight  upon  organ 
ized  piety.  The  preacher's  wife  therefore  en 


EXETER    HALL. 


joyed  herself  more  than  she  had  for  a  long 
time.  So  much  was  this  the  case,  and  so 
mucli  more  had  she  inclined  toward  her  host, 
that  she  secretly  wished  her  husband  had  bul 
an  opportunity  to  see  him  as  he  then  was 
even  to  witness  but  a  few  of  the  excellent 
qualities  which,  in  spite  of  all  prejudice,  she 
must  acknowledge  were  possessed  in  such  an 
eminent  degree  by  this  reputed  despiser  of 
the  liospel. 

The  cheerful  hours  passed  away,  and  Mrs. 
Baker  had  to  return  home.  She  left  the  col 
late  highly  pleased  with  her  visit.  The 
piano  had  given  its  last  note  for  the  night, 
and  Mrs.  Mannors  and  Mary  and  William 
had  retired.  Mr.  Mannors  and  his  guest  sat 
by  the  smouldering  fire,  talking  freely  about 
many  things,  as  it  the  various  topics  could 
not  be  exhausted.  Mr.  Capel  referred  to  the 
Bible  meeting,  with  the  view  of  hearing  his 
opinion,  and  then  to  cautiously  try  and  draw 
him  out  on  the  subject  of  religion.  Mr.  Man 
nors  had  read  the  account  of  the  disgraceful 
scenes  which  had  been  enacted  in  Mr.  Howe's 
church,  and  he  alluded  to  the  singular  con 
duct  of  the  majority  of  ministers  and  hearers 
who  had  openly  encouraged  what  might  be 
called  a  religious  riot.  The  shameful  pro 
ceedings  had  been  talked  of  far  and  near,  and 
lie  knew  of  many  pious  persons  who  exulted 
in  the  defeat  of  a  certain  religious  body  on 
that  occasion. 

"I  must  acknowledge,"  said  Mr.  Capel, 
"  that  the  whole  proceedings  were  most  dis 
creditable,  most  shameful,  most  injurious  to 
our  common  Christianity." 

"  Or  rather  a  common  phase  of  Christianity," 
returned  Mr.  Mannors.  "  I  see  you  wish  to 
know  my  opinion  on  the  subject,  and  I  will 
give  it  plainly.  I  know  you  will  listen  with 
out  offense.  Religious  people  seem  to  exist 
in  contention  ;  it  seems  to  be  their  normal  con 
dition  ;  they  claim  to  monopolize  all  the  vir 
tue,  honor,  and  morality  which  elevate  hu 
manity,  and  tell  us  that  without  the  Bible 
man  would  be  worse  than  a  brute.  What, 
then,  has  the  Bible  done  for  these  men  whose 
professed  calling  is  said  to  be  to  promote  in 
an  especial  manner  peace  and  good-will? 
What  has  the  Bible  done  to  appease  the  cla 
morous  sects  around  us  who  can  violate, 
m»st  deliberately,  every  principle  of  honor  or 
justice  to  obtain  an  ascendency?  How  is  our 
nation  plundered  and  our  people  impoverished 
to  sustain  a  class  of  men  who  from  pulpit 
and  platform  shout  out, '  The  Bible,  the  whole 
Bible,  and  nothing  but  the  Bible.'  and  yet — 
astonishing  fact — the  very  rapacity  of  these 
persons,  the  same  now  as  in  all  time,  has  been 
more  depleting  to  our  country  than  the  sup- 
iort  of  another  abuse — the  payment  of  a 
large  standing  army.  Look  at  the  pomp,  and 
splendor,  and  state  of  our  national  priest 
hood  1  Is  this  right  ?  Look  at  the  violent 
upheaving  and  struggle  for  precedence  among 
the  dissenting  churches  !  What  is  the  great 
actuating  motive  ?  is  it  the  ultimate  benefit  of 
the  people?  Alas !  you,  as  well  as  I,  must  an 
swer,  No.  There  is  a  ceaseless  craving  for  more, 
more ;  there  is  no  appeasing  the  insatiable 
appetite  of  our  religious  teachers.  There  is 
an  everlasting  mania  for  the  erection  of  pala 


tial  churches,  for  ministerial  endowments,  for 
the  printing  and  circulation  of  thousands  of 
Bibles,  and  for  sending  men  called  '  mission 
aries  '  away  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  while 
we  at  home  are  infested  with  an  ignorant, 
vicious  multitude,  even  in  the  very  midst  of  a 
crowd  of  priests.  There  is  always  something 
to  demand  the  child's  toy,  the  widow's  mite, 
or  the  poor  man's  pence,  at  the  time  that, 
thousands,  yes,  millions  of  human  beings  are 
ke,.t  languishing  in  poverty,  and  vainly  strug 
gling  for  the  actual  necessaries  of  life.  There 
is  always  some  gulf  in  which  the  resources 
of  the  nation  are  swallowed  up  in  behalf 
of  this  terrible  despotism  called  '  KEMGION,' 
which,  while  ostentatiously  claiming  to  be 
the  handmaid  of  charity,  exhibits  its  sordid- 
ness  by  its  unjust  distribution  of  pence  to  the 
poor  and  pounds  to  the  church,  rags  for  the 
pauper  and  robes  for  the  priest.  This  has 
been  the  result  of  its  influence ;  it  has  conse 
crated  imposition,  and  almost  dethroned  hu 
manity. 

"  On  all  sides  of  us  we  see  churches  tower 
ing  up,  the  most  magnificent  and  costly 
buildings  in  the  land.  In  every  city,  town, 
village  or  hamlet  in  Christendom,  the  most 
prominent  object  is  the  sanctuary.  A  house 
must  be  provided  for  the  Lord,  though  the 
poor  perish  on  the  highway.  All  sects,  while 
preaching  humility,  seem  to  delight  in  a  ri 
valry  for  fine  churches ;  the  extravagance  in 
this  respect  is  unbounded.  There  are  now, 
nearly  or  about  a  thousand  of  such  edifices 
in  London  alone,  erected  at  a  cost  of  mil 
lions.*  These  magnificent  piles  are  but  sel 
dom  used,  and,  save  a  few  h-'urs  every  week, 
they  remain  closed  to  all  the  world.  Accord 
ing  to  the  arrogance  of  clerical  opinion,  it 
would  be  desecration  4to  devote  them  to  any 
thing  else  than  religion.  Were  the  opinion 
not  so  prevalent,  Science  would  not  have  to 
tremble  so  often  in  a  shed,  while  Religion 
was  exalted  under  a  gilded  canopy.  Through 
out  the  land,  you  will  find  a  church  where 
no  proper  refuge  for  the  poor  has  been 
provided,  or  where  no  public  school  has 
jeen  yet  erected.  You  will  find  poor,  home 
less  wanderers,  for  whom  no  adequate  provi 
sion  has  been  made  ;  hopeless  men,  forlorn 
ivomen,  and  shivering  children,  who  would 
gladly  find  a  shelter  within  such  walls.  Our 
>oor-house  prisons  are  not  homes  for  the  poor, 
;hey  are  prisons ;  and  the  man  who  is  once 
weed  to  enter  their  walls  feels  forever  de 
graded.  They  are  a  disgrace  to  our  age. 
The  splendid  religious  temples,  so  numerous 
around  us,  have  never  yet  been  devoted  to 
the  beneficent  purposes  of  humanity.  The 
night  shadows  of  bleak  winter  may  fall  heav- 
ly  around  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  the  cold 
winds  may  blow,  and  drifting  snow  or  tor 
rents  of  rain  may  fall  on  the  frozen  earth, 
)ut  the  desolate  and  wretched  who  wander 
through  the  streets,  and  who  know  not  where 
to  lay  their  heads,  may  look  longingly  in 
vain  at  that  great  Christian  monument.  It 
will  be  no  asylum  for  them  ;  they  are  our 

*  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  London,  Is  over  five  hundred 
eet  long,  covers  two  acres  of  ground,  and  cost  the  na- 
ion  £1,500,00*1  sterling— about  $7,600,000— Which  wsi 
ollected  by  a  tax  on  coal  1 


EXETER    HALL. 


national  vagrants,  for  whom  nobody  cares. 
They  may  rest  their  wearied  limbs  where  they 
can,  under  door-steps  and  porches ;  they  may 
lean  against  dead  walls,  or  crouch  into  cor 
ners,  or  creep  into  filthy  drains  or  sewers;  but 
St.  Paul's  can  not  be  polluted  by  such  a  rab 
ble.  Our  religious  civilization  will  not  stand 
this ;  such  noble  structures  are  evidences  of 
national  taste — of  our  homage  to  superstition. 
They  are  consecrated  and  dedicated,  but  must 
not  be  desecrated  by  over-done  efforts  of 
practical  benevolence  ;  it  would  do  violence 
to  religious  feeling,  and  be,  simply  and  plain- 
ay,  sacrilege.  The  rich  cushion  made  for  the 
knee  of  wealth  must  not  be  used  as  a  pillow 
for  the  poor  man's  head." 

Mr.  Capel  felt  surprised  at  the  vehemence 
of  his  host ;  there  was  a  certain  amount  of 
truth  in  what  he  had  just  heard,  and  which 
he  could  not  deny.  Pious  extravagance  in  the 
erection  and  ornamentation  of  churches  was 
most  remarkable.  He  had  had  positive  evi 
dence,  time  after  time,  that  Gospel  ministers 
were  not  all  saints,  were  no  better  than  other 
men,  but  in  many  respects  far  less  liberal 
and  intelligent ;  that  the  numerous  sects 
were  not  charitably  disposed  toward  each 
other,  or  always  governed  by  just  principles ; 
but  he  thought '  that  religion  was  not  to 
blame  for  this  ;  it  was  rather  the  want  of  it. 
He  felt  embarrassed  as  to  how  he  should  re 
ply,  relative  to  the  so-called  desecration  of 
churches.  The  idea  advanced  by  Mr.  Man 
nors  was  new  to  him,  and  his  better  nature 
incl  ned  him  to  think  that  it  could  not  be  an 
unholy  act  to  give  such  shelter  to  the  poor, 
where  shelter  was  so  much  needed.  The  tern 
pie  in  which  active  charity  was  displayed 
could  not  be  less  agreeable  to  the  Lord  than 
that  which  was  reserved  for  a  mere  pompous 
exhibition  of  faith  without  works.  It  would 
be  difficult,  however,  to  reduce  such  a  theory 
to  practice ;  clerical  opinion  was  stubborn  on 
this  point.  He  would  think  more  on  that 
subject. 

"  You  imagine  it  is  rather  a  want  of  reli 
gion,"  said  Mr.  Marmora.  "  I  shall  speak  to 
you  concerning  this  again  ;  but,  I  ask,  is 
there  not  something  wrong  in  so  much  relig 
ious  ostentation  ?  Is  not  the  accumulation 
and  display  of  ecclesiastical  wealth  nignifi- 
cant  ?  The  history  of  religion  in  this  island 
is  a  national  disgrace  ;  its  race  of  intolerance 
and  oppression  is  nearly  run  ;  but  it  lias  been 
a  galling  fetter  upon  the  noblest  impulses  of 
our  people.  Witness  the  cupidity  of  the 
priest-power  of  this  nation  at  the  present 
day.  All  mast  succumb  to  the  fraudulent 
exaction  of  church  rates,  and  to  the  cease 
less  importunities  of  the  so-called  voluntary 
systems,  which  are  almost  as  extortionate. 
There  is  something  wrong  in  all  this.  With 
the  immense  sums  annually  expended  for  re 
ligion,  we  have  in  our  British  cities  as  much 
crime  and  destitution  as  you  will  find  in  an 
equal  number  of  heathen  cities  in  any  part 
of  the  world.  We  may  boast  of  our  civiliza 
tion,  but  we  are  still  as  obdurate,  as  selfish, 
and  as  inhuman  as  those  who  have  never  yet 
opened  a  Bible.  We  have  enough  for  all, 
yet  thousands  are  starving.  A  few  monopo 
lize  the  wealth,  a  few  more  the  land.  Passive 


obedience  is  preached  in  our  churches,  and  th» 
poor  are  driven  to  desperation  and  crime. 
We  boast  of  British  law — laws  that  are  based 
upon  the  principle  of  revenge  instead  of  re- 
form.  If  a  man  can  not  pay  his  debts,  we  im 
prison  him ;  if  he  commits  a  certain  crime, 
we  take  his  life :  we  still  have  an  eye  for 
an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth.  Religion 
has  never  had  any  great  regard  for  human 
life.  In  ancient  times,  by  its  sanction,  men 
were  robbed  of  their  existence  for  trifling  of 
fenses  ;  and  until  lately,  even  in  this  civilized 
kingdom,  death  was  the  penalty  for  offunses 
a  conviction  for  which  may  now  bring  but  a 
few  month's  imprisonment ;  and  still,  notwith 
standing  the  efforts  of  the  humane,  a  painful 
death  is  the  legal  remedy  for  misdemeanors 
made  crimes,  and  for  crimes  made  capital,  by 
the  persistency  of  Christian  legislation." 

"  I  must  differ  from  you,"  replied  Mr.  Capel. 
"  I  think  Christianity  has  mitigated  the  rigor 
of  our  laws;  it  has  humanized  our  legisla 
tion,  no  doubt  of  it ;  and  I  think  that  we,  as 
Christian  people,  have  good  reason  to  boast 
of  the  influence  of  religion  in  this  respect." 

"  I  fear  you  have  forgotten.  It  is  well 
known  that  Christianity  has  claimed  to  be 
the  author  of  reforms  which  the  church  at 
first  opposed  ;  this  is  characteristic  of  its 
course.  When  a  few  reformers  aroused  the 
nation  against  the  enormities  of  the  slave- 
trade,  who  was  it  that  upheld  the  system  ? 
Who  was  it  that  waved  aloft  the  lash  of  the 
task-master,  and  tried  to  smother  the  hu 
mane,  the  merciful  impulse  under  a  cloud  of 
texts? — The  national  priests!  During  the 
agitation  of  that  question,  some  years  ago, 
the  late  Lord  Eldon  sarcastically  said,  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  'that  he  could  not  bring  him 
self  to  believe  the  slave-trade  was  irrecon 
cilable  with  the  Christian  religion,  as  the 
bench  of  bishops  had  uniformly  sanctioned 
by  their  votes  the  various  acts  of  Parliament 
authorizing  that  trade.'*  I  must  remind  you 
that  when  petitions  were  sent  to  Parliament 
against  the  death  penalty,  many  of  our  minis 
ters  and  preachers  denounced  the  movement 
from  the  pulpit,  and  successfully  used  their 
influence  against  its  abolition.  '  Whoso 
sheddeth  man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood 
be  shed,'  is  still  the  favorite  text  in  support 
of  legalized  murder.f  If  Christianity  has 
mitigated  the  rigor  of  our  laws,  the  same  ex 
cellence  was  claimed  for  it  when  Catholic  and 
Protestant  inquisitors  endeavored  to  enforce 
their  mild  doctrines  through  the  medium  of 
the  wheel,  the  rack,  the  thumbscrew,  and  the 
boot ;  by  roasting  and  disjointing,  by  pressing, 
tearing,  crushing,  and  defacing,  and  by  muti 
lating  and  torturing  the  human  body  in  every 
imaginable  way !  And  it  can  not  be  denied 
that  these  cruelties  were  entirely  of  Christian 
origin.  This,  my  friend,  is  a  dreadful  history  ; 
and  if  our  laws  are  becoming  more  lenient,  it 
is  because  humanity  has  triumphed  over  the 
scruples  of  religion." 

Mr.  Capel  paused  for  a  few  moments  before 

*    NoteO. 

t  "  RCT  Chas.  B.  8- gave  his  views  on  marriage 

and  divorce,  at  the  Cooper  Institute,  New-York,  on 
Sunday  evening.  He  thought  the  only  penalty  for 
adultery  was  the  death  of  the  guilty  parties."  From 
a  Philadelphia  paper,  186T. 


EXETER    HALL. 


51 


he  replied.  He  could  not  positively  deny 
what  had  been  asserted,  and  he  hesitated,  in 
the  hope  that  he  might  be  able  to  find  some 
plea.  "  I  do  not,"  said  he,  "  admit  that 
Popery  is  Christianity.  The  inquisition  was  a 
disgrace,  for  which  our  purer  faith  should  not 
be  held  accountable." 

"1  make  but  little  distinction,"  said  Mr. 
Manners,  "  The  leaven  of  intolerance  is  in  the 
whole  lump,  each  in  turn  persecuting  the 
other.  You  surely  can  not  forget  the  enormi 
ties  of  the  Star  Chamber  ;  you  can  not  forget 
the  fierce  vindictive  persecution  that  raged  for 
years  among  the  Protestant  sects — Episcopa 
lian  against  Dissenter,  Puritan  against  Quak 
er.  1  will  not  recall  the  enormities,  they  are 
too  painful.  But  I  will  ask  you,  plainly, 
after  all  our  church-building,  and  preaching, 
and  praying  ;  after  all  that  has  been  extorted 
for  the  maintenance  of  thousands  of  priests, 
of  all  denominations — what  is  the  result  of 
our  boasted  Christianity  ?  Has  it  lessened 
the  brutalities  of  war?  Has  it  made  men 
niore  humane,  more  generous,  more  self- 
denying,  more  forgiving,  than  those  of  re 
mote  times,  who  had  never  heard  the  Gospel 
sound?  What  have  we  as  the  grand  re 
sult  '!" 

"  People  who  can  resort  to  persecution 
have  never  been  imbued  with  a  true  Christian 
principle,"  replied.  Mr.  Capel.  "  I  care  not 
how  they  are  called  ;  the  man  who  persecutes 
for  opinion's  sake  is  not  a  Christian.  I  can 
not  admit  that  Christianity  is  answerable  for 
the  enormities  of  which  you  speak." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  "  I  do  not  un 
derstand  where  Christianity  is  to  be  found, 
if  not  among  those  who  preach  and  those 
who  profess  it ;  if  I  can  not  find  it  among 
the  tried  and  true  believers  who  are,  and 
have  been,  as  ready  to  die  for  the  faith  as 
they  have  been  to  persecute — where  is  it  to 
be  found  1  Ah  my  friend !  do  not  mistake 
your  natural  sense  of  justice  for  the  gift  of 
faith." 

"  If  we  look  for  pure  Christianity,"  an 
swered  Mr.  Capel,  "  we  must  look  for  it  in  the 
Bible  alone.  Were  men  to  be  entirely  guided 
by  its  divine  teachings,  our  world  would  be 
different  from  what  it  is.  Professors  of  re 
ligion  are,  I  admit,  too  often  governed  by  an 
gry  passions  ;  they  exhibit  a  want  of  forbear 
ance.  The  Bible  denounces  error,  but  has  no 
plea  for  persecution.  There  is  not  a  text  be 
tween  its  covers  that  favors  such  a  principle." 

"  Then  I  do  not  understand  the  Bible," 
said  Mr.  Mannors,  "  I  consider  its  teaching 
essentially  intolerant ;  and  when  I  read  such 
texts  as  this,  'If  there  come  any  unto  you 
and  bring  not  this  doctrine,  receive  him  not 
into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  God-speed,' 
(John  2:  10,)  I  am  justified  in  believing  that 
it  favors  persecution.  The  anathema  mnra- 
unt/iti  is  ever  ready.  But  as  it  is  now  getting 
iate,  we  shall  not  pursue  this  subject  any  fur 
ther  at  present.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  converse 
with  you,  and  I  hope  you  wijl  bear  with  me 
hereafter  if  I  venture  to  give  you  my  opinion 
of  the  Bible  more  plainly." 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "  to  listen  to 
any  argument,  either  for  or  against  the  di 


vine  word.     Truth  can  not  suffer  by  discus 
sion." 

"  I  am  much  pleased  to  hear  you  say  so.  I 
feel  that  I  have  spoken  warmly  on  this  sub 
ject,  I  am  obliged  to  do  so  ;  and  I  well  know 
the  penalty  which  must  be  paid  for  the  free 
expression  of  opinion.  Our  ministers  are 
ever  ready  to  denounce  any  person  who  may 
venture  to  question  what  you  call  '  Divine 
Revelation.'  Instead  of  courting  investiga 
tion,  they  try  to  avoid  it.  They  are  a  popu 
lar  and  in'luential  body,  and  it  is  not  always 
safe  to  hurl  a  stone  against  a  popular  idol. 
It  requires  no  small  share  of  moral  courage 
to  smite  the  image;  but  if  the  duty  falls  to 
my  lot,  then  it  shall  be  performed ;  I  am 
willing  to  strike  the  blow  alone.  I  was  once 
a  believer,  as  you  now  are ;  I  can  believe  no 
longer.  I  know  that  it  requires  much  pa 
tience  and  fortitude  to  contend  against  a  pop 
ular  error.  I  respect  the  honest  opinions  of 
men  of  all  creeds  ;  I  interfere  not  with  them  ; 
but  if  any  are  desirous  of  approaching  the 
light,  they  shall  have  my  sympathies.  It  ia 
hard  to  be  maligned  by  men  who  profess  to 
have  been  regenerated,  yet  who  have  not 
learned  the  lesson  of  charity.  For  yeara 
I  have  been  misrepresented  by  certain  of 
your  preachers,  because  I  can  not  bring 
myself  to  a  passive  belief  of  all  that  is  re 
corded  in  the  Scriptures.  The  late  meeting 
of  your  Bible  Society  ought,  1  think,  to  satisfy 
you  that  some  who  profess  to  be  ministers  of 
Christ  are  wicked  and  designing.  I  know  of 
but  one  who  was  at  that  meeting  who  is  actu 
ally  infamous.  I  know  of  one  who  is  courted 
and  smiled  upon,  and  treated  as  the  principal 
pillar  of  one  of  the  great  religious  bodies, 
whose  voice  has  charmed  many  in  the  sanctu 
ary,  but  whose  fierce  intolerance  has  brought 
sorrow  to  his  own  home ;  and  there  may  be 
yet  one  poor  broken  heart  to  cry  out  against 
him,  '  How  long,  O  Lord  !  how  long  ! '  " 


CHAPTER  X. 

EARLY  next  morning,  when  Mr.  Capel 
looked  from  his  window,  he  was  delighted 
with  the  fine  panoramic  view  which  he  ob 
tained  of  the  distant  city  and  surrounding 
scenery.  Faint  streaks  of  red  light  in  th6 
east  betokened  the  coming  glory  of  the  ris 
ing  sun,  and  in,  a  short  time  those  early  har- 
bi Hirers  of  the  day  god  were  spread  around 
in  all  directions,  illuminating  every  object, 
crowning  the  distant  hills  with  ruddy  light, 
and  sending  golden  rays  over  ancient  tree 
and  castle,  and  then  flashing  on  a  hundred 
glitterinj;  spires  of  the  proud  metropolis. 
The  great  cross  of  St.  Paul's  was  again  visi 
ble  in  the  morning  sky  ;  and  that  which  had 
been  observed  by  Mrs.  Mannors  as  a  cause  of 
so  much  superstitious  reverence  was  now 
only  more  noticeable  from  its  great  altitude, 
not  from  any  thing  peculiar  in  its  appearance. 

He  mused  as  the  sunlight  rested  on  the 
window-sill,  and  threw  a  glimmer  on  the 
rustling  ivy  that  was  creeping  upward  with 
silent  progress.  He  still  looked  toward  the 


52 


EXETER  HALL. 


city,  and  felt  a  degree  of  surprise  at  the  vast 
number  of  towers  and  steeples  which  were 
looming  up,  as  if  trying  to  leave  the  smoky 
gloom,  and  the  darker  objects  by  which  they 
were  surrounded.  These  numerous  struc 
tures  called  to  his  remembrance  the  remarks 
of  his  friend  Mr.  Mnnnors  What  vast  sums 
must  have  been  expended  in  their  erection  ! 
and  the  question  again  came,  What  was  the 
result  ?  Could  it  be  that  the  world  was  in 
reality  no  better  than  if  they  had  been  so 
many  heathen  temples?  Could  it  be  that 
these  numerous  sanctuaries,  dedicated  to  God, 
had  not  made  the  mass  of  the  populace  of 
London  any  better,  but  had  been  erected  and 
consecrated  to  provide  wealth,  ease,  and  dis 
tinction  for  a  horde  of  religious  stock-brokers 
and  professional  imposters?  Yet  this  was  the 
opinion  of  thousands,  who  assert  that  they 
are  forced  to  tolerate  an  unscrupulous  priest 
hood.  He  was  willing  to  admit  that  there 
was  a  portion  of  truth  in  the  supposition  ; 
still  he  thought  that  such  an  extreme  view 
could  not  be  justified.  There  were,  no  doubt, 
many  stately  churches  which  had  been  built  as 
much  for  the  adornment  of  the  city  as  for 
temples  for  worship ;  but  were  there  not 
many  other  places  in  which  the  pure  word  of 
God  was  regularly  expounded  by  faithful, 
persevering  men,  who,  in  the  very  midst  of 
the  pride  and  pomp  of  this  mighty  Babylon 
were  not  ashamed  to  go  out  into  the  high 
ways,  and  into  the  streets,  lanes  and  alleys  to 
call  upon  the  reckless  and  abandoned  ? 

But  why,  thought  he,  with  all  these 
churches  crowded  Into  every  quarter,  why  is 
there  still  such  a  complaint  of  "  religious 
destitution  "?  With  BO  many  hundred  places 
of  worship,  several  of  a  gorgeous  and  impos 
ing  appearance,  and  with  a  multitude  of 
priests,  from  the  princely  archbishop,  loll 
ing  in  his  luxurious  carriage,  down  to  the 
most  humble,  dissenting  itinerant,  there  was 
yet  an  amount  of  vice  and  ignorance  in  Lon 
don  that  was  almost  overwhelming.  By  the 
immensity  of  aids  and  appliances  which 
Christianity  had  at  its  command — wealth, 
power,  and  authority — any  religions  system, 
Mormonism  or  Mohammedanism,  or  any  other 
ism,  no  matter  how  monstrous,  absurd,  or  de 
basing  to  human  reason,  might  be  inculcated 
and  established  by  resolute  men.  Yet  even  with 
these  very  means,  to  an  enormous  extent,  the 
complaint  still  was,  that  tl  e  national  faith 
was  languishing,  and  that  many,  even  among 
priests  and  pious  literati,  began  to  doubt,  just 
as  if  Christianity  was  behind  the  age — a 
drag  upon  science,  and  as  if  it  contained  no 
intrinsic  excellence  that  could  not  be  made 
sufficiently  manifest  without  the  persuasive 
aid  of  gold,  legal  enactments,  and  priestly 
pensioners. 

Almost  every  city  paper  contained,  periodi 
cally,  accounts  of  some  great  meeting,  got  up 
by  the  clergy,  for  the  purpose  of  making  pious 
appeals  to  the  benevolent  for  fresh  means  to 
meet  the  spiritual  wants  said  to  be  so  fast  in 
creasing.  Did  these  wants  arise  from  an  in 
crease  of  sinners,  or  an  increase  of  priests? 
Every  possible  method  was  used  to  induce  the 
people  to  resort  to  places  of  worship  ;  and  to 
effect  this  more  paTt.icularly  the  ministry 


united,  almost  to  a  man,  in  making  pulpit  ap 
peals  against  Sabbath  d-  secration.  They 
loudly  decried  against  a  re-sort  to  public  parks, 
gardens,  libraries,  or  museums,  but  all  to  no 
purpose ;  the  great  mass  of  the  working  people 
would  not  come  under  the  clerical  yoke  :  and  if 
debarred  from  such  favorite  places,  many 
might  wander  away  among  green  fields  or 
pleasant  highways,  while  too  many  others 
would  defiantly  resort  to  dram-shops,  gin 
palaces,  or  dens  of  depravity.  It  was  proved  by 
official  returns,  that  the  numerous  churches 
and  chapels  already  erected  were  on  the  aver 
age  not  more  than  one  third  filled  by  regular 
attendants  ;  and  it  was  a  well  known  fact  that, 
with  regard  to  the  Established  Church,  not 
more^than  one  third  of  the  number  of  its 
:leri<  al  incumbents  ever  did  more  for  religion 
than  go  through  the  occasional  formality  oi 
reading  liturgical  prayers,  or  delivering  a 
languid  sermon — often  the  composition  of  some 
needy  author.  Yet  still  these  very  incumbents 
who  live  in  ease,  and  revel  in  such  ducal  in 
comes,  or  draw  such  exorbitant  salaries,  are, 
without  the  least  compunction,  am<  ng  the 
very  first  to  shout  out,  "  More  money,  more 
:hurches,  more  priests,  and  more  Sunday 
restrictions." 

These  circumstances  were  degrading  to  re 
ligion.  The  truth  was  not  preached,  but  it 
was  made  merchandise  of  by  unscrupulous  men, 
whose  priestly  trade  was  but  a  source  of  wealth 
to  themselves  and  a  tax  on  the  nation.  The 
Queen,  Lords,  and  Commons  united  in  support 
of  that  great  religious  imposition  called 
'  The  Church  ;"  and  our  legislators  stood  agape 
if  any  one  dared  to  question  such  a  palpable 
outrage.  The  church  must  be  protected  even 
though  blood  should  be  daily  shed  in  sup 
port  of  its  exactions. 

But  then,  thought  he,  the  dissenting 
ministers  are  a  different  class  ;  were  it  not  for 
them,  Christianity  in  Britain  would  be  almost 
extinct.  These  ministers  might  in  reality  be 
called  the  "  successors."  They  were  persons 
who  cared  not  to  preach  for  the  sake  of  filthy 
lucre  ;  the  souls  of  men  were  of  more  value  to 
them  than  rich  livings  or  ecclesiastical  prefer 
ments.  But,  alas!  even  among  dissenters,  there 
were  only  a  few  of  such  preachers.  They,  too, 
had  undoubtedly  become  more  worldly.  The 
strife  and  bitter  feeling  among  the  various 
sects  seemed  to  grow  with  their  growth,  and 
strengthen!  with  their  strength.  This  con 
tinued  strife  was  quite  sufficient  to  counteract 
all  the  good  that  had  been  done  by  the  mcst 
successful  revivalists.  And  now,  at  the  present 
day,  while  places  of  worship  have  been  quadru 
pled  ;  when  preaching  has  become  a  lucrative 
trade;  while  the  younger  sons  of  the  British 
aristocracy  are  foisted  into  bishoprics — Inking 
precedence  of  merit  in  tlie  church  as  they  do 
of  valor  in  the  army — when  clergymen  and 
preachers  of  all  ranks  and  conditions  are  aim 
ing  after  popularity  and  distinction,  while 
sects  and  denominations  of  all  kinds  have  be 
come  wealthy  and  influential,  and  while  the 
Christian  creed  has  an  aegis  of  protection  in 
the  strong  arm  of  the  law,  the  religious 
world  is  actually  retrograding,  and  religion 
itself  is  held  among  many  of  the  most  gifted 
and  intelligent  to  be  only  a  delusion. 


EXETER    HALL. 


5£ 


These  were  strange  thoughts  for  a  young 
preacher  to  indulge  in,  but  they  were  such  as 
had  obtruded  upon  him  at  the  time.  He  could 
not  reject  the  evidence  that  had  forcibly  pre 
sented  itself  day  after  day.  Again  he  tried  to 
turn  from  these  unpleasant  cogitations ;  be 
neath  him  was  the  smiling  garden,  and  the 
fresh  fragrance  of  the  morning  ascended  to 
where  he  stood.  Spring  flowers  were  fling 
ing  their  incense  to  the  young  day,  and  buds 
of  beauty  that  had  been  cared  tor  by  the  hand 
of  a  fair  girl  were  blushing  in  the  early  sun 
beams.  What  peace  seemed  to  rest  upon  the 
dwelling!  When  he  thought  of  his  friendly 
host,  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  sincere  pleasure, 
and  he  felt  grateful  tliat  his  lines  had  fallen 
in  such  pleasant  places.  He  thought  of  Mary 
Mannors ;  her  song  seemed  to  linger  in  his 
ear  ;  her  image  was  before  him,  and  her  sweet 
smile  rose  like  ra  liance  in  his  memory.  Mrs. 
Mannors  he  considered  an  excellent  woman — 
good,  pious,  and  charitable,  but  far  behind 
either  father  or  daughter  in  mental  qualities  ; 
and  already  to  him  dyi  that  daughter  appear 
as  the  special  angel  of  the  household. 

Indeed,  Mr.  Capel  might  be  justified  in 
granting  that  position  to  Mary  Mannors.  Al 
most  every  thing  that  was  beautiful  or  attrac 
tive  in  or  about  Hampstead  Cottage  bore  traces 
of  her  superintendence.  In  fine  weather,  she 
spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  garden.  She 
trimmed  the  shrubs,  trained  the  vines,  nursed 
young,  delicate  plants,  and  petted  the  birds  in 
the  hall ;  and  when  she  approached  t  he  cages, 
the  little  inmates  became  at  once  vocal.  With 
William  as  her  almost  constant  attendant,  the 
flower  pots,  the  flowers,  the  fountain,  the  rock 
work,  and  even  the  neat  graveled  walks,  were 
all  kept  more  trim  and  orderly  by  her  indus 
trious  care.  She  was  also  quite  competent 
to  superintend  household  affairs. 

What  a  blessing,  thought  Mr.  Capel,  she 
might  be  to  her  mother  were  she  only  brought 
under  the  full  influence  of  religion,  and  not  to 
her  mother  alone,  but  to  her  father;  for  she 
might  >e  a  miss  onary,  whose  gentle  teaching 
would  be  more  persuasive  to  a  mind  lik«  his 
than  that  of  the  most  skillful  polemic,  or  than 
the  argument  of  the  most  learned  pulpit  oration. 

The  events  of  the  previous  evening  passed 
rapidly  before  him,  and  he  began  to  reflect 
upon  the  duty  which  he  had  undertaken.  He 
was  greatly  pleased  with  the  frank,  courteous 
disposition  of  Mr.  Mannors  ;  but  he  feared  it 
would  be  a  difficult  task  to  make  him  believe 
that  the  sentiments  which  he  held  upon 
religious  subjects  were  erroneous. 

Mr.  Capel,  as  well  as  other  preachers,  often 
had  troublesome  doubts  arise  in  his  own 
mind,  he  often  felt  confused  about  various 
ambiguous  passages  in  the  Bible,  and 
about  their  various  interpretations.  He 
was  often  perplexed  by  contradictory  chap 
ters,  verses,  and  texts ;  and  the  bare  idea  of 
eternal  punishment  was  most  repulsive, 
and  conflicted  greatly  with  his  conception 
of  divine  benevolence.  It  would  not,  how 
ever,  be  prudent  to  mention  these  doubts  to 
any  one ;  lea-t  of  all  to  the  person  whom  he 
was  now  desirous  of  reclaiming  from  error. 

I  have  been,  thought  Mr.  Capel,  too  much 
like  a  doubting  Thomas,  ever  ready  to  stumble 


over  the  slightest  obstruction.  I  have  allowed 
my  frail  reason  to  interfere  with  my  faith,  and 
if  I  do  not  suppress  these  rebellious  thoughts, 
as  others  in  the  faith  make  it  a  duty  to  do, 
I  may  go  on  forever  doubting  and  reasoning 
and  reasoning  and  doubting,  until  I  shall  have 
stepped  over  the  precipice  which  has  brought 
destruction  to  so  many.  Why  should  I  set  up 
my  opinions  against  those  of  the  mo<t  able 
and  intellectual  that  England  has  produced? 
Why  should  I  hesitate  to  accept  that  which 
has  been  tried  by  a  Wesley,  a  Clark,  an  1  a 
Paley  ?  Great  minds  have  submitted  to  reve 
lation,  and  surely  /  can  not  refuse  the  truth 
which  has  been  so  apparent  and  conclusive 
to  them.  To  doubt  what  Newton  believed 
would  be  folly  and  presumption. 

Before  he  left  his  room,  he  decided  to  be 
more  prayerful,  to  try  and  banish  every  doubt, 
and  to  place  full  trust  in  the  Lord.  He 
would  speak  to  Mr.  Mannors  in  all  sinceri 
ty  ;  he  would  tell  him  of  his  lost  state  by 
nature,  and  how  he  might  be  enlightened  by 
the  Divine  Spirit,  and  how  he  might  be  saved 
by  placing  all  trust  in  the  propitiatory  sacri 
fice  made  for  every  child  of  Adam.  He  would 
in  this  matter  boldly  take  up  his  cross,  and 
the  Lord  would  n  >t  be  forgetful  of  his 
promise,  but  would  reveal  himself,  and  estab 
lish  his  own  truth.  That  truth  must  be  ir 
resistible,  particularly  to  one  who,  like  Mr. 
Mannors  was  a  sincere  inquirer,  and  who 
could  in  calm  discussion  throw  aside  every 
prejudice  and  submit  to  honest  conviction. 

As  Mr.  Capel  entered  the  parlor  Miss  Man 
nors  had  just  commenced  to  play  one  of 
Beethoven's  beautiful  sonatas ;  she  was  not 
aware  of  the  presence  of  the  young  preacher. 
She  sat  in  her  loose  morning  dress,  and  every 
motion  was  the  perfection  of  grace.  Her  un 
bound  golden  hair  hung  around  her  snowy 
shoulders,  and  her  delicate  fingers  ran  along 
the  keys  with  finished  touch,  sending  out  the 
most  exquisite  harmony.  What  little  seraphs 
had  once  seemed  to  his  boyish  mind,  Mary 
was  now  to  his  manhood  ;  and  as  she  still 
played,  her  presence  and  her  music  had  such 
a  magical  effect  that  neither  by  word  nor 
action  could  he  interrupt  the  fair  performer, 
and  he  listened  delighted  and  spell-bound  for 
the  time. 

When  the  piece  was  finished,  he  addressed 
Miss  .Mannors.  Shn  was  a  little  surprised,  and 
a  faint  blush  overspread  her  face,  greatly  add 
ing  to  her  personal  attractions,  and  render 
ing  the  clear  blue  eyes  which  she  had  now 
turned  toward  him  einsrularly  fascinating. 
She  had  not  the  least  idea  that  he  had  been  a 
listener  in  the  very  room  ;  and  now  that  they 
were  alone  for  the  first  time,  she  felt  slightly 
embarrassed.  But  with  her,  such  a  feeling 
could  be  only  momentary  ;  she  looked  up  at 
him  confidently,  and  said :  "  I  hope  I  played 
one  of  your  favorite  pieces.  Pa  says  you  are 
a  good  judge  of  music,  and  indeed  I  think  so 
too.  I  fancy  I  heard  your  voice  last  ••veiling, 
you  sang  tor  a  minute  or  two,  and  then  quit 
suddenly  as  if  you  were  afraid.  Let  me  see, 
Quakers,  I  believe,  never  indulge  in  music. 
How  strange !  Is  it  sinful  to  sing  ?" 

"  Oh  !  not  at  all ;  we  sing  in  our  worship, 
we  praise  God  in  music." 


EXETER    HALL. 


"  Yes,  of  course  yon  sing  hymns  ;  but  such 
eongs  only.  Now,  you  are  a  minister,  aud  I 
think  you  will  acknowledge  that  no  one  can 
be  very  bad  who  is  readily  touched  or  affected 
by  music.  Ma  used  to  tell  me  when  I  was  a 
child,  tliat  little  angels  were  continually  sing 
ing  delightful  melodies.  Music,  therefore, 
must  be  a  heavenly  acquirement." 

"  Heaven  would  not,  I  think,  be  perfect 
without  it,"  said  Mr.  Capel.  "  Angels  are 
always  musical ;  and  I  find  that  some  of  our 
earthly  angels  are  very  like  their  sisters  in 
paradise." 

Miss  Manners  again  blushed  slightly  ;  she 
was  perhaps  a  little  contused  by  the  reply, 
but  she  continued  as  if  she  had  not  heard  it. 

"  I  can  not  on  that  account,"  said  she,  *'  be  a 
very  great  sinner.  1  don't  pretendt  to  be  a 
saint,  but  I  find  that  even  some  of  our  most 
religious  persons  are  alvvuys  deploring  their 
own  vileness,  as  they  call  it.  Now  really,  Mr. 
Cape),  don't  you  t'  ink  that  many  of  our  pious 
people  exaggerate  a  great  deal  with  such  re 
ligious  phraseology  of  self-condemnation  ? 
Now,  my  mamma  isone  of  the  best  and  kindest 
hearts  in  all  the  world,  yet  she  is  given  to  be 
wail  her  own  sinfulness ;  and  she  has  told  us 
over  fifty  times  that  we  in  this  quiet  place  ar« 
all  wicked  and  sinful,  and  very  bad  in  most 
respects.  Can  this  be  so?  And  Mr.  Wesley, 
who,  as  you  know,  was  a  very  good  man  natu 
rally,  and  I  suppose  much  better  for  having 
been  such  a  devoted  minister,  often  boasted — 
if  I  may  use  that  expression — that  he  was  the 
'  chief  of  sinners ' !  Was  not  such  an  assertion 
truly  and  positively  wrong  ?  It  was  not  only 
a  very  absurd  exaggeration,  but  almost  if  not 
quite  a— of  course  I  won't  say  what.  Don't 
you  think  so  ?'' 

This  question,  simple  as  it  was,  and  put 
with  such  na'icete,  really  disconcerted  him  for 
a  few  moments  ;  but  the  usual  orthodox  reply 
came  to  his  rescue,  and  he  said  : 

"  According  to  the  Scriptures,  Miss  Man- 
nors,  we  are  all  sinners  by  nature.  We  are 
told  that  there  is  none  good,  no,  not  one. 
I  acknowledge  that  there  seems  to  be  an  ap 
parent  incongruity  in  the  assertion  to  which 
you  allude.  As  fallible  beings,  we  are  not 
truly  capable  of  judging  as  to  what  is  right  or 
what  is  wrong. 

"  We  think  favorably  of  those  whom  we  be 
lieve  to  be  good  and  virtuous  ;  we  may  be 
partial,  but  there  are  no  degrees  of  sin  in 
the  sight  of  God  ;  all  alike  are  under  condem 
nation.  And  until  a  man  becomes  regenerate, 
jmd  freed  from  the  curse  of  the  law,  he  has 
no  right  to  expect  the  favor  of  God,  or  con 
sider  himself  any  thing  but  a  sinner  of  the 
deepest  dye." 

"  Under  the  curse  of  the  law  I  Dreadful, 
dreadful !"  said  Mary,  with  an  arch  smile ; 
"  why,  really,  I  think  religious  persons  must 
be  very  unhappy.  Just  to  think  of  having  to 
believe  that  all  the  good,  kind  people  we  Bee 
around  us  are  such  terrible  wretches  as  to 
deserve  such  condemnation  !  And  then  to 
believe  that  God,  who  is  said  to  be  so  loving 
and  merciful,  is  to  be  always  so  unforgiving 
arid  vindictive  toward  creatures  which  he 
himself  is  said  to  have  created.  I  can  not 
believe  this.  You  must  remember  that  it  was 


after  his  conversion  that  Mr.  Wesley  used  tc 
presume  to  be  the  '  chief  of  sinners. '  You 
can  not  believe  that  he  was.  Ma  and  Hau 
nah  are  almost  always  telling  us  of  his  good 
ness  ;  and  to  read  his  interesting  journals, 
you  could  come  to  no  other  conclusion  than 
that  he  was  a  favorite  with  God  aud  man. 
Yet  how  mistaken  good  men  can  be  some 
times  !" 

"  Mr.  Wesley  was  certainly  a  blessing  to  the 
world,"  said  Mr.  Capel  ;  "  he  was  particular 
ly  successful  as  a  preacher  of  righteousness, 
and  no  doubt  many  are  n<>w  among  the  re 
deemed  whom  he  can  claim  as  seals  to  his 
ministry.  He  now  enjoys  his  heavenly  le- 
ward." 

"And  yet,  wonderful  to  relate,  he  was  all 
the  time  the  '  chief  of  sinners.'  Well,  I  de 
clare,  Mr.  Capel,  there  is  something  very  in 
consistent  in  such  an  idea.  Then  you  believe 
that  the  Almighty  thinks  every  person  fit  for 
condemnation  but  the  regenerate  ;  and  that 
until  we  are  what  you  call  '  born  again,'  we 
are  all  equally  guilty,  and  must  all  perish 
alike  under  the  curse  of  the  law?  What 
injustice  to  make  me  answerable  for  the  sins 
of  another !  Why  did  God  permit  Adam  to 
be  tempted,  when  he  knew  that  he  could  not 
resist?  Then  if  I  am  under  this  curse,  how 
am  I  to  get  free  ?  I  remember  a  text  which 
I  learned  at  Sunday-school, '  No  man  can  come 
to  me  except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me 
draw  him.'  If  we  can  not  repent  until  we  are 
drawn,  punishment  for  non-compliance  would 
seem  unjust.  There  are  some  other  singular 
passages  in  the  Bible  which  go  to  prove  that 
the  Deity  is  partial,  '  blinding  the  eyes  '  and 
'  hardening  the  hearts '  of  some,  lest  they 
should  be  converted.  This  is  hard  to  believe  ; 
it  may  be  orthodoxy,  but  it  is  not  humanity. 
Such  a  doctrine  is  opposed  to  the  better  feel 
ings  of  our  nature  ;  it  is  most  repulsive.  We 
fallible  creatures  readily  admit  that  there  are 
degrees  of  guilt,  and  our  reason  and  common 
sense  lead  us  to  believe  that  there  ought  to 
be  degrees  of  punishment.  Our  reformatory 
laws  are  based  upon  such  a  principle  ;  but  to 
condemn  all  alike, may  be  divine  justice  ac 
cording  to  Scripture;  it  is  certainly  not  con 
sistent  with  human  jurisprudence." 

While  speaking  thus,  Mary  Mannors  looked 
him  full  in  the  face,  and  her  emotion  spread  a 
glow  over  her  beautiful  countenance.  He 
paused  in  admiration  and  astonishment.  She 
had  given  him  a  specimen  of  precocious  reason 
ing  which  he  did  not  expect ;  he  had  never 
before  heard  a  person  of  her  age  express  sen 
timents  so  fearlessly,  or  with  such  a  feeling 
of  thorough  indifference  to  orthodox  censure. 
His  immediate  impulse  was  in  sympathy  with 
her  opinions,  but  that  impulse  was  but  mo 
mentary.  As  like  others  anxious  to  believe, 
Faith  was  ever  ready  to  whisper,  "  Beware  of 
reason,"  and  Faith  with  him  Ktill  had  the 
ascendency. 

"  I  am  aware,  Miss  Mannors,"  said,  he  with 

some  diffidence,  "  that  there  are  passages  in 

the  Bible  hard  to  be  understood  ;  but  there  is 

enough  sufficiently  plain  to  teach  us  our  duty. 

I  trust  you  will  some  day  view  these  matters 

j  as  I  now  do.     We  know  by  experience  how 

1  difficult  it  is  for  human  tribunals  to  decide 


EXETER    HALL. 


55 


the  claims  of  justice.  What  injustice  has  been 
done  where,  justice  has  been  the  aim  !  We 
must  submit  entirely  to  the  claims  of  revela 
tion.  Without  the  Bible,  our  reason  would 
lead  us  far  astray,  and  the  world  would  be 
Badly  bewildered." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mary,  laughing, 
"  without  desiring  to  speak  irreverently,  I 
think  the  Bible  has  sadly  bewildered  those 
who  pretend  to  expound  it.  If  there  are,  as 
you  say,  pussies  in  that  book  hard  to  be  un 
derstood,  and  liable  to  produce  error  and  un 
certainty,  what  necessity  was  there  for  them  ? 
They  could  not  have  been  written  for  our  in 
struction  or  edification.  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  while  we  ignore  reason  in  these 
matters,  we  shut  out  the  only  light  we  have. 
I  1'ear  you  will  think  that  I  presume  too 
much  ;  but  from  the  variety  of  opinions,  the 
number  of  creeds,  contradictions,  and  conflict 
ing  doctrines — all  said  to  be  derived  from  the 
same  inspired  source,  and  all  claiming  the 
same  infallibility,  those  who  are  dete- mined 
to  stick  to  the  Bible  as  being  an  inspired 
book  must  ever  remain  in  a  wilderness  of 
doubt  and  speculation." 

"  Why  such  passages  are  included  in  the 
Bible  is  at  present  beyond  our  comprehen 
sion  ;  we  must  only  assume,"  said  Mr.  Capel, 
"  that  they  are  intended  for  some  good  pur 
pose.  It  would  be  folly  to  reject  all,  because 
a  portion  is  beyond  our  reason.  The  Bible,  as 
it  is,  is  the  only  revelation  from  God  to  man. 
In  it  we  have  sufficient  instruction,  and  if  we 
are  governed  by  its  precepts,  we  need  not  fear 
the  designs  of  the  Evil  One,  we  need  not  be 
afraid  to  die." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mary,  "  I  can  not  under 
stand  these  things.  I  fear  no  evil  one  ;  and, 
when  my  time  comes,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  to 
die.  But  apart  from  this,  if  you  say  that  un 
til  we  become  regenerated  we  must  consider 
ourselves  sinners  of  the  deepest  dye,  I  can  not 
agree  with  you.  Now,  do  you  think,"  said  she, 
smiling,  and  giving  him  an  arch  look,  "do 
you  really  think  that  /  am  such  a  wretched 
sinner,  and  that  I  deserve  such  terrible  punish 
ment  ?  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am.  I  do  not  believe 
that  I  am.  I  never  did  the  least  harm  to  any 
one  in  my  life  ;  indeed,  I  would  much  rather  do 
a  kindness  than  an  injury.  And  to  say  that 
I  should  be  obliged  to  consider  pa  and  Wil 
liam,  whom  I  love,  and  many  other  excellent 
persons  whom  I  know  and  regard,  as  vile  de 
graded  creatures,  full  of  all  kinds  of  sin  and 
mischief,  I  would  rather  be  vilified  and  de 
spised  as  a  downright  unbeliever ;  as  far  as 
that  goes,  I  am  an  unbeliever.  I  would  not 
on  any  account  submit  to  such  a  doctrine.  I 
think  you  will  find  it  difficult  to  do  so  your 
self.  If,  in  order  to  be  a  good  Christian,  you 
must  believe  that  a  few  of  us,  quiet,  unoffend 
ing  people  in  this  house,  are  as  bad  as  even 
pome  of  the  ministers  we  read  of  in  the  papers, 
why  then,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  we  shall  never 
be  of  one  mind." 

"  That's  right,  Pop,  that's  right,"  said  Mr. 
Manners,  who  now  entered  the  room,  carrying 
William  on  his  back.  "  I  have  overheard  what 
you  have  just  said,  and  if  Mr.  Capel  is  right, 
I  must,  like  Bunyan's  Pilgrim,  get  rid  of  this 


little  bundle  of  sin  ;"  and  he  placed  William 
on  a  chair  near  his  sister.  "  You  see,  Mr. 
Capel,  when  I  am  away,  my  daughter  is  my 
representative,  and  if  you  tell  her  we  are 
all  such  bad  people,  then  you  must  ex 
pect  to  get  some  hard  blows.  He  tries  to 
imagine  that  we  are  as  wicked  and  corrupt 
as  your  mamma  and  poor  Hannah  fancy  wa 
are,  does  he?"  said  he,  addressing  Mary; 
and  while  he  stood  smiling  behind  her  chair 
he  began  to  smooth  down  her  glossy  ringlets 
with  his  open  hands. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Mannors  is  a  very  good  ex 
ponent  of  the  doctrine  of  self-righteousness," 
said  Mr.  Capel  pleasantly.  "  I  am  afraid  she 
is  under  the  impression  that  the  saints  are  a 
very  exclusive  set  of  beings.  I  trust,  however, 
that  before  long  she  will  be  better  acquainted 
with  their  sentiments." 

Mary  now  stood  by  the  piano,  and  again 
her  fingers  ran  over  the  keys  in  a  careless 
manner ;  and  the  notes  that  she  awoke  came 
in  response  to  the  gentle  feelings  of  her  own 
bosom.  She  had  no  dread  of  future  misery  ; 
she  had  no  fear  of  a  Deity  who  created  her  for 
purposes  of  vengeance.  She  felt  no  condem 
nation  for  any  thing  she  had  done,  and  had 
it  been  in  her  power,  she  would  have  willing 
ly  banished  care,  and  distress,  and  sorrow 
from  every  human  being.  She  was  not  pos 
sessed  of  one  truly  selfish  feeling,  and  had  no 
higher  ambition  than  to  try  and  make  the  lit 
tle  circle  in  which  she  moved  radiant  with 
happiness.  What,  then,  had  she  to  fear? 
Ministers  of  the  Gospel  might  frighten  others 
about  the  "  wrath  of  an  offended  God,"  and 
about  the  "  death  that  never  dies,"  and 
about  flames  and  tortures,  and  the  horrors  de 
picted  by  Baxter,  Edwards,  and  Doddridge,* 
she  would  believe  in  no  such  vengeance — of 
no  worse  fiends  than  some  of  those  in  human 
shape.  She  would  still  hope  and  trust  in 
the  great  Being  who  made  this  beautiful 
earth,  and  the  blue  skies  ;  who  smiled  in  the 
sunlight,  and  gave  fragrance  to  the  flower. 
She  would  trust  that  Being  who  had  given 
her  a  heart  to  feel,  and  who  had  given  to  her, 
and  to  them  she  loved,  faculties  for  enjoyment ; 
and  who,  above  all,  had  endowed  her  with 
reason  to  resist  teachings  which  would  por 
tray  the  Omnipotent  Power  as  a  barbarous  di 
vinity,  influenced  by  malignant  passions — ca 
pricious,  arbitrary,  tyrannical,  and  revenge 
ful. 

Her  fingers  still  wandered  over  the  instru 
ment,  bringing  out  snatches  of  favorite  airs ; 
and  as  she  stood  with  her  head  turned  to  the 
sunlight,  and  her  eyes  directed  toward  some 
dew-spangled  flower  in  the  garden,  she  looked 
more  like  the  impersonation  of  true  womanly 
dignity  and  worth  than  the  deluded  abbess 
immured  in  a  convent ;  or  than  many  of  her 
Protestant  sisters  who  pay  a  silly  worship  to 
popular  priests,  and  who  neglect  the  duties  of 
home  to  go  on  a  round  of  collections  for  the 
purpose  of  erecting  churches,  circulating  tracts 
and  Bibles,  or  for  providing  funds  and  an  out* 
fit  for  Utopian  missionaries  to  the  frantic  Fee- 
jees  or  treacherous  Tongataboos. 

*See  Note  D. 


5ft 


EXETER    HALL. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MRS.  MANNORS  had  a  triumph  1  This  morn 
ing,  for  the  first  time  in  many,  years  they 
had  regular  family  devotion  ;  the  domestic 
altar  had  again  been  raised  in  the  good  old 
fashion.  A  chapter  was  read,  then  a  few 
words  by  way  of  explanation,  and  then  there 
was  prayer.  What  was  more  wonderful  to 
her,  Mr.  Manners  had  actually  graced  that 
triumph  by  his  presence.  He  and  Miss  Man 
ners  attended,  as  well  as  William  and  Han 
nah.  All  had  assembled  in  the  breakfast- 
room,  and  the  greatest  attention  was  paid 
while  Mr.  Capel  was  occupied  in  the  per 
formance  of  that  service.  Mrs.  Mannors 
was  in  the  best  of  spirits  ;  she  had  brought 
this  thing  to  pass ;  she  felt  like  blessing 
the  Lord  all  day  long ;  and  during  break 
fast,  she  entertained  them  with  cheerful  con 
versation  about  preachers  and  brethren,  and 
about  pleasant  tea  meetings  in  contemplation. 
And  then  she  dwelt  in  anticipation  upon  the 
glorious  time  they  were  going  to  have  in  their 
grand  assault  on  the  stronghold  of  Satan,  at 
the  protracted  or  revival  meeting  that  was 
Boon  to  take  place ;  many  stubborn  sinners 
were  to  be  subdued,  and  the  Lord  was  to  be 
mightily  magnified  by  the  conquest.  Then 
she  told  them  about  the  busy  preparations 
that  were  making  for  the  great  meeting  of 
the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  to  be 
held  in  Exeter  Hall  in  the  month  of  May ; 
and  about  the  ship  load  of  idols,  and  Indian 
chiefs,  and  converted  cannibals  that  were  j 
daily  expected  from  foreign  parts,  and  that  j 
were  to  be  openly  exhibited  at  a  subsequent ' 
missionary  meeting  —  genuine  Gospel  tri 
umphs  !  Shs  was  not  troubled  this  morning 
by  the  effects  of  any  particular  dream.  Wil 
liam  looked  much  better  ;  she  smiled  most 
benignantly  on  Mr.  ( 'apel,  and  altogether  she 
was  in  a  most  satisfactory  state  and  very  hap- 

P.v- 

There  were  others  also  that  morning,  at 
Hampstead  who  to  a  certain,  extent  might  be 
said  to  be  in  the  enjoyment  of  as  full  a 
measure  of  contentment  as  Mrs.  Mannors. 
The  young  preacher  could  scarcely  fancy  that 
he  was  not  among  his  own  dearest  relatives. 
He  was'almost  persuaded  to  believe  that  Heath 
Cottage  had  once  been  his  home,  and  that  he 
had  now  returned  to  it  after  an  absence  of 
many  years.  He  became  communicative,  and 
spoke  about  Ireland,  and  gave  a  description  of 
the  unrivaled  natural  beauty  of  the  environs 
of  his  native  city.  He  related  anecdotes  of 
his  younger  days,  and  then  revealed  a  little 
of  hi*  family  history.  He  told  them  of  the 
death  of  bis  mother  and  brother,  and  how 
lonely  the  world  appeared  to  him  afterward, 
and  how  he  had  been  induced  to  enter  the 
ministry.  While  he  mentioned  these  things, 
he  could  not  help  perceiving  that  he  was 
winning  the  sympathy  of  his  new  friends, 
and  when  he  told  them  of  his  last  visit  to  the 
old  churchyard,  where  his  parents  and  his 
little  brother  rested,  and  how  he  planted  a 
rose-tree  at  e«ch  grave,  and  how  wretched  he 
felt  when  he  had  to  leave  all  and  go  out  into 
the  world  among  total  strangers,  he  saw  that 
beside  Mrs.  Mannors's  there  was  one  pair  of 


soft  eyes  almost  suffused  with  tears,  and  tht 
solemnity  on  William's  face  was  remarked  by 
his  mother  as  being  strangely  serious.  Even 
Mr.  Mannors  was  sensibly  affected  by  the 
simple  recital,  and  he  spoke  such  warm  words 
of  encouragement  as  to  make  Mr.  Capel  truly 
feel  that  he  was  not  without  a  h,ome  and 
friends. 

During  the  conversation  in  the  breakfast 
room,  Hannah  indulged  as  usual.  Her  voice 
from  the  kitchen  could  be  heard  singing 
lustily  oneof  Wesley's  hymns.  She,  too,  seem 
ed  to  be  under  the  prevailing  influence  of  the 
time ;  she  was  in  the  spirit,  and  although  a 
good-natured  laugh  of  mockery  from  Robert, 
who  was  working  in  the  garden,  could  also  be 
occasionally  heard,  Hannah  seemed  to  pay  no 
heed  to  the  interruption,  but  resolutely  con 
tinued  until  the  entire  hymn  was  finished. 

Mr.  Capel  had  yet  a  week  to  remain  before  he 
was  required  to  recommence  his  itinerant  vis 
itations  on  the  circuit.  He  would  have  been 
much  better  pleased  had  it  been  a  fortnight ; 
he  was,  however,  determined  to  enjoy  in  the 
mean  time  all  the  happiness  he  could,  and  to 
make  his  stay  at  Hampstead  agreeable  to  his 
new  friends.  He  intended  to  embrace  the  first 
opportunity  that  offered  in  opening  his  mind 
to  Mr.  Mannors  on  the  subject  of  religion,  and 
if  possible  try  and  wean  him  from  his  erroneous 
views.  He  felt  that  he  was  but  a  weak  instru 
ment  to  effect  much  good.  He  knew  his  own 
inability  to  deal  with  a  person  of  such  mental 
calibre  as  his  hospitable  friend  ;  but,  fullv 
trusting  for  aid  from  on  high,  he  would  under 
take  the  duty  in  all  humility,  conscious  that 
many  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him,  and  that  if  he 
succeeded  his  success  would  be  a  triumph  for 
the  Gospel  that  might  make  scoffers  and  sk«-p- 
tics  pause  on  their  downward  road.  He  would 
do  his  best,  not  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
any  credit  for  himself,  but  for  the  further  illus 
tration  of  the  potency  of  the  Divine  Word.  He 
had  already  been  considering  some  of  the  ob 
jections  urged  by  Ms  friend,  and  he  thought 
it  possible  to  meet  them  in  a  satisfactory  man 
ner.  He  had  no  faith  in  the  subleties  of  argu 
ment  or  controversy ;  he  knew  that  prayer 
and  faith  would  remove  every  mountain  of 
unbelief ;  the  result  he  would  leave  in  the  hand 
of  the  Lord. 

The  opportunity  sought  for  by  the  young 
preacher  was  not  long  waiting.'  Mrs.  Manners 
had  that  day  to  visit  Mrs.  Baker,  and  she 
wished  Mary  and  her  brother  to  accompany 
her  ;  the  visit  might  benefit  William.  An 
early  start  was  desirable,  and  in  a  short  time 
Robert  drove  up  with  a  plain,  comfortable  vehi 
cle.  Mr.  Capel  assisted  Miss  Mannors  to  her 
place,  and  was  rewarded  by  one  of  her  sweetest 
smiles.  All  was  ready,  and  the  parting  be 
tween  Mr  Mannors  and  his  wife  and  children 
was  as  affectionate  as  if  they  were  not,  to  meet 
again  for  a  month ;  and  when  the  carriage 
drove  away,  he  and  Mr.  Capol  stood  at  the 
gate,  and  looked  after  them  until  they  were 
entirely  out  of  sight. 

It  might  not  be  difficult  toHpeculate  upon  the 
young  preacher's  thoughts  at  the  moment.  It 
might  not  be  hard  to  guess  who  it  was  that 
monopolized  the  most  prominent  place  in  his 
imagination,  and  who  it  was  in  particular 


EXETER    HALL. 


57 


that  lie  missed  when  the  sound  of  .the  wheels 
died  away  in  the  distance,  and  when  the  light 
clouds  of  dust  that  rose  up  behind  them  grew 
thicker  and  thicker.  Although  the  sunlight 
was  as  bright  as  ever,  yet  already  there  was 
something  shadowy  in  the  appearance  o  Heath 
Cottage — there  was  a  want  of  life  about  the 
place;  even  now,  he  really  thought  that  the 
lowers  were  drooping  their  delicate  heads,  as 
f  their  queen  had  taken  flight ;  that  the  little 
buntain  had  almost  ceased  to  play,  as  if  its 
Cashing  jets  could  only  leave  mere  bubbles 
upon  the  surface  of  the  limpid  water;  and 
!  lat  the  yellow  birds  which  looked  up  so  often 
from  their  handsome  prisons  to  the  blue  sky 
were;  more  silent,  just  merely  giving  an  occa 
sional  note,  as  if  to  let  you  know  that  they 
were  yet  alive.  In  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  a 
feeling  of  loneliness  crept  over  him,  and  he 
was  not  much  enlivened  when  Mr.  Manners 
Baid,  in  a  kind  of  regretful  mood,  "  There  goes 
all  my  earthly  treasure." 

As  they  walked  toward  the  house,  Mr.  Capel 
remarked,  how  happy  they  must  be  who  had 
not  their  entire  treasure  upon  earth,  but  who 
had  their  chief  store  laid  up,  where  neither 
moth  nor  rust  could  corrupt  nor  thief  break 
through  to  steal.  What  a  privilege  those  en 
joyed  who  could  give  up  all,  and  forget  all,  for 
heaven.  "  Suppose,"  continued  he.  "  that  you 
should  lose  that  treasure  which  you  have  rea- 
s  )ii  to  prize  so  highly,  what  consolation  would 
you  have  left '?" 

"  None,  that  I  know  of,  but  my  tears — nature's 
own  soothing.  I  would  have  to  bear  the  afflic 
tion  as  best  I  could;  we  know  by  experience 
that  such  losses  are  among  the  contingencies 
of  life,  and  are  sure  to  follow  in  the  course  of 
human  events.  I  envy  no  one  the  selfish  privi 
lege  of  forgetfulness.  To  be  in  such  a  place 
as  heaven  itself  could  not  induce  me  to  forget 
those  I  love — may  I  never  be  so  selfish !  My 
treasures  are,  however.upon  this  earth.which  is 
now  my  heaven  ;  and  should  I  be  so  unfortunate 
as  to  lose  them,  I  shall,  no  doubt,  be  delighted 
if  I  can  again  meet  them  in  any  happier  place, 
or  in  some  future  state  of  existence." 

The  young  preacher  then  endeavored  to 
assure  him  of  the  certainty  of  such  a  meeting ; 
i  was  that  certainty  which  sustained  the  pious 
in  afflictions  or  bereavement ;  and  he  then  quot 
ed  several  passages  of  Scripture  in  support  of 
his  assertions.  Mr.  Manners,  however,  stated 
his  regret  that  such  passages  were  not  sufficient 
to  assure  him,  having  had  good  reasons  to 
question  their  authenticity;  and  as  doubts 
were  thrown  on  leading  texts  which  Mr.  Capel 
endeavored  to  explain,  Mr.  Manners  suggest 
ed  that  they  should  retire  to  his  study  where 
he  had  some  books  bearing  on  the  question, 
and  where  they  would  be  able  to  converse 
without  interruption. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Manners,  when  they  were 
quietly  seated,  "you  and  I  are,  I  think,  differ 
ent  from  most  persons  who  meet  for  discus 
sion.  We  are  al>out  to  approach  the  matter  in 
a  proper  spirit,  not  like  so  many  others  who 
wage  a  war  of  words  for  the  mere  sake  of  a 
victory.  We  meet  here  for  the  more  noble 
purporii;  of  endeavoring  to  ascertain  what  is 
truth.  Could  I  believe  that  you  were  deter 
mined  to  resist  conviction  and  stick  to  cherish 


ed  dogmas,  whether  right  or  wrong,  I  would 
not  sit  here  a  moment  longer.  We  know  that 
the  pursuit  of  truth  is  attended  with  much, 
difficulty,  and  that  the  sincere  inquirer  is  often 
denounced  as  the  enemy  of  his  race.  History 
has  abundant  proof  that  the  high  priests,  and 
those  in  high  station  whom  they  could  in 
fluence,  have  been  ever  ready  to  defame  and 
persecute  those  who  have  refused  to  bow  down 
and  worship  a  popular  error ;  or  who  have 
dared  to  brush  away  the  antiquated  excrescen 
ces  which  have  impeded  human  progress.  It 
has  been  truly  said  that  'reformers,  in  all  ages, 
whatever  their  object,  have  been  unpitied  mar 
tyrs,  and  the  multitude  have  evinced  a  savage 
exultation  in  their  sacrifice.  Let  in  light  upon 
a  nest  of  young  owls,  and  they  will  cry  OUT 
against  the  injury  you  have  done  them.  Men 
of  mediocrity  are  young  owls ;  and  when  you 
present  them  with  strong,  brilliant  ideas,  they 
exclaim  against  them  as  false,  dangerous,  and 
deserving  punishment ; '  *  and  another  writerf 
says,  '  An  original  thinker,  a  reformer  in  moral 
science,  «  ill  thus  often  appear  a  hard  and  insen 
sible  character.  He  goes  beyond  the  feelings 
and  associations  of  the  age ;  lie  leaves  them  be 
hind  him  ;  he  shocks  onr  old  prejudices  ;  it  is 
reserved  for  a  subsequent  generation,  to  whom 
his  views  have  been  unfolded  from  infancy, 
and  in  whose  minds  all  the  interesting  associa 
tions  have  collected  round  them,  which  for 
merly  encircled  the  exploded  opinions,  to  regard 
his  discoveries  with  unmingled  pleasure.'  No 
man  should  be  afraid  of  doubt ;  it  has  been 
called  the  '  beginning  of  philosophy,'  and  '  the 
accusing  attorney  in  the  court  of  truth.'  No 
true  man  should  hesitate  to  grapple  with  false 
hood  ;  for  from  the  midst  of  the  dust  and  con 
fusion  of  the  struggle,  truth  is  sure  to  as 
cend  more  brilliant  and  triumphant.  Any 
system,  theory,  or  principle,  no  matter  how 
antiquated  or  popular,  that  dreads  or  forbids 
investigation,  bears  witness  to  its  own  fraud, 
and  is  already  stamped  with  its  own  condem 
nation.  Grote  says,  '  To  ask  for  nothing  but 
results,  to  decline  the  labor  of  verification,  to 
be  satisfied  with  a  stock  of  ready-made  argu 
ments  as  proof,  and  to  decry  the  doubter  or 
negative  reasoner  who  starts  new  difficulties, 
as  a  common  enemy — this  is  a  proceeding  suf 
ficiently  common  in  ancient  as  well  as  in 
modern  times.  But  it  is  nevertheless  an  abne 
gation  of  the  dignity  and  even  of  the  functions 
of  speculative  philosophy.'  We  have  thou 
sand*  around  us  at  the  present  day  «  ho  dread 
this  '  labor  of  verification ' — mental  drones, 
who  swallow  a  creed  aa  they  would  a  pill ;  who 
are  far  behind  the  age,  and  who  strut  about 
like  resuscitated  mummies  bearing  their  worm- 
eaten  coffins  on  their  backs  as  fancied  emblems 
of  distinction  :  and  who  are  ever  ready  to  erect 
a  warning  pillar  of  hieroglyphics  in  the  way 
of  every  scientific,  social,  or  moral  improve 
ment.  These  are  they  who,  with  haughty  as 
sumption,  denounce  the  living,  thinking  men 
of  the  present  day,  who  spurn  tlieir  rotten 
bandages,  and  refuse  to  have  their  free  limbs 
swathed  in  the  musty  conservatism  of  an  an 
cient  puerility.  But  the  noble,  liberal  mindi 
of  all  ages  have  been  the  unflinching  advo- 

*  Adventures  of  a  Younger  Son.     t  S.  Bailey. 


68 


EXETER    HALL. 


cates  of  free  inquiry,  even  should  the  inves 
tigation  lead  to  the  abandonment  of  ideas  long 
and  tenderly  cherished.  Locke  says,  '  Those 
who  have  not  thoroughly  examined  to  the 
bottom  their  own  tenets  must  confess  they  are 
unfit  to  prescribe  to  others,  and  are  unrea 
sonable  in  imposing  that  as  truth  on  other 
men's  belief  which  they  themselves  have  not 
searched  into,  nor  weighed  the  arguments  of 
probability  on  which  they  should  receive  or 
reject  it."  'A  mistake  is  not  the  less  so,  and 
will  never  grow  into  a  truth,  because  we  have 
believed  it  lor  a  long  time,  though  perhaps  it  be 
the  harder  to  part  with  ;  and  an  error  is  not  the 
less  dangerous,  nor  the  less  contrary  to  truth 
because  it  is  cried  up  and  had  in  veneration 
by  any  party.' 

"  Investigation  should  be  commenced  and 
continued  without  any  dread  as  to  its  results  ; 
a  proposition  which  requires  tender  handling 
is  possessed  of  some  inherent  rottenness. 
Harriet  Martineau  observes  that  '  No  in 
quirer  can  fix  a  direct  and  clear-sighted  gaze 
toward  truth  who  is  casting  side  glances  all 
the  while  on  the  prospects  of  his  soul.' 

"  When  Galileo  asserted  the  truth  of  the 
Copernican  system,  he  was  scoffed  at  and 
persecuted  by  the  flaunting  arrogance  of  old 
ideas ;  and  when  he  offered  to  give  some  of 
the  wise  ones  of  his  day  actual,  positive  proofs 
of  the  truth  of  his  recent  discoveries,  he  was 
not  only  denounced  as  a  heretic,  but  actually 
imprisoned,  for  presuming  to  think  beyond 
others.  The  ecclesiastical  mummies  of  that 
period,  like  those  of  the  present,  declined  the 
labor  of  verification,  preferring  to  hug  an 
antiquated  error  rather  than  permit  the  radi 
ance  of  truth  to  expose  their  ignorance.  Writ 
ing  to  his  friend  Kepler  on  this  subject,  he 
good-humoredly  said : 

" '  0  my  dear  Kepler!  how  I  wish  we  could 
have  a  hearty  laugh  together.  Here  at  Padua 
is  the  principal  professor  of  philosophy,  whom 
I  have  repeatedly  and  urgently  requested  to 
look  at  the  moon  and  planets  through  my 
glass,  which  he  pertinaciously  refuses  to  do. 
Why  are  you  not  here  ?  What  shouts  of 
laughter  we  should  have  at  this  glorious 
folly.'* 

"  This  is  a  fair  illustration  of  blind,  obstinate 
prejudice ;  and  that  such  prejudice  still  exists 
is  glaringly  manifest  on  every  side.  We  have 
now  a  multitude  of  persons  loud  in  their 
laudations  of  truth.  Yet  if  you  dare  to  doubt 
their  idea  of  that  principle  ;  if  you  venture  in 
all  humility  to  hint  the  possibility  of  their 
being  in  error ;  if  you  should  benevolently 

*  Luther,  the  hero  of  the  Reformation,  in  the  full 
ness  of  his  priestly  presumption,  was  as  ready  to 
rail  at  the  discoveries  of  Bcieutiflc  men  as  were  some 
of  his  late  confreres  of  the  Romish  Church.  In  con 
demnation  of  the  Copernican  system  of  astronomy,  he 
thus  commits  himself: 

"I  am  now  advised  that -a  new  astrologer  is  risen, 
who  presumeth  to  prove  that  the  earth  moveth  and 
goeth  about,  no_t  the  firmament ;  the  sun  and  moon, 
not  the  stars — like  as  when  one  sitteth  in  a  coach,  or 
in  a  ship  that  is  moved,  thinketh  he  sitteth  still  and 
resteth.  but  the  earth  and  trees  do  move  and  run 
themselves.  Thus  it  goeth ;  we  give  up  ourselves  to 
our  own  foolish  fancies  and  conceits.  This  fool  (Co 
pernicus)  will  turn  the  whole  art  of  astronomy  upside 
down ;  but  the  Scripture  showeth  and  teacheth  ano 
ther  lesson,  when  Joshua  commandeth  the  sun  to 
etaud  still,  and  not  the  earth," 


cast  the  most  simple  lamplight  across  theil 
path,  in  order  to  reveal,  even  to  the  least  et 
tent,  the  mud  and  mire  through  which  they 
proudly  and  resolutely  plunge — eager  to  fol 
low  in  the  slushy  track  of  venerated  pre 
decessors — then  you  are  an  innovator,  a  dis 
turber,  an  infidel,  and  a  wretch. 

"  Daily  experience  goes  to  prove  that  such  is 
the  treatment  which  many  of  our  most  emi 
nent  benefactors  have  received  from  monopo 
lizing  blind  guides,  who  persistently  obtrude 
themselves  as  teachers  of  truth,  and  who  as 
persistently  stand  in  the  way  of  progress. 
Even  scientific  Christian  men  have  had  to 
acknowledge  that  such  is  the  case.  Agassiz 
says,  '  There  are  few  of  the  great  truths  now 
recognized  which  have  not  been  treated  as 
chimerical  and  blasphemous  before  they  were 
demonstrated.'  Yet,  after  all  this,  the  ana 
thema  is  hurled  at  reform,  and  where  priests 
can  not  persecute  with  the  rack,  as  of  old,  they 
resort  to  social  degradation." 

"  You  can  not  deny,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "that 
many  of  our  greatest  reformers  were  sincere 
Christians.  Newton,  and  Bacon,  and  others 
whom  I  might  mention,  gave  eminent  proofs 
of  their  ability  and  desire  to  enlighten  man 
kind  ;  they  were  not  afraid  of  advanced  opin 
ions." 

"  They  were  not ;  but  Lord  Bacon's  ortho 
doxy  was,  however,  very  questionable,  and 
he  was  looked  upon  by  many  with  distrust. 
Newton's  great  discovery  of  gravitation,  and 
other  discoveries  of  his,  were  strongly  op 
posed,  and  were  not  fully  understood  by  learn 
ed  Christian  men  for  more  than  fifty  years 
after  their  announcement.  These  cases,  how 
ever,  do  not  affect  the  general  correctness  of 
what  I  have  stated  in  relation  to  men  who 
have  departed  from  the  beaten  track  of  old 
opinions.  We  know  that  free  inquiry  has 
been  proscribed  from  time  to  time,  and  we 
still  see  the  necessity  for  perseverance.  No 
matter  how  some  may  rage,  or  how  base  may 
be  their  detraction,  let  him  who  is  on  the  side 
of  truth  be  fearless,  and  he  is  sure  to  triumph. 
My  object,  so  far,  is  to  show  the  necessity  for 
investigation  ;  and  before  I  quit  this  prelimin 
ary,  I  will  read  you  an  extract  bearing  on  the 
subject. 

"  Samuel  Bailey,  in  \\\s  Essay  on  the  Pur  suit 
of  Truth,  says  :  '  The  great  interests  of  the 
human  race,  then,  demand  that  the  way  of  dis 
covery  should  be  open,  that  there  should  be 
no  obstruction  to  inquiry,  that  every  possible 
facility  and  encouragement  should  be  afforded 
to  efforts  addressed  to  the  detection  of  error 
and  to  the  attainment  of  truth  ;  nay,  that 
every  human  being,  as  far  as  he  is  capable, 
should  actively  assist  in  the  pursuit ;  and  yet 
one  of  its  greatest  discouragements  at  present 
existing  among  mankind  is  the  state  of  their 
own  moral  sentiments.  Although  he  who 
has  achieved  the  discovery  of  a  truth  in  a 
matter  of  importance,  or  rescued  an  admitted 
truth  from  insignificance  and  neglect,  may 
justly  indulge  the  reflection  that  he  has  con 
ferred  a  benefit  on  his  fellow-men,  to  which 
even  time  itself  can  prescribe  no  limits,  he 
will  do  well  to  prepare  for  the  odium  and 
persecution  with  which  the  benefit  will  be 
resisted,  and  console  himself  with  a  prospeo 


EXETER    HALL. 


59 


tire  reliance  on  the  gratitude  and  sympathy 
of  a  future  age.  It  is  impossible  to  deny  the 
fact,  that  in  some  of  the  most  important 
departments  of  knowledge,  the  bulk  of  man 
kind  regard  novelties  of  doctrine — a  descrip 
tion  under  which  all  detections  of  error  and 
acquisitions  of  truth  must  come — as  acts  of 
moral  turpitude  or  reprehensible  arrogance, 
v.-hich  they  are  ready  to  resent  on  the  head  of 
t  ae  promulgator.'  " 

"I  regret,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "to  be  obliged 
1 1  admit  the  full  force  of  what  you  have  j  ust 
rmd.  From  my  own  limited  experience,  too 
i  jany  of  our  Christian  teachers  are  ready  to 
(eery  doubt  and  forbid  inquiry.  I  fear  no 
investigation  ;  let  truth  and  falsehood  grap 
ple,  lam  willing  to  submit  Christianity  to 
i  s  severest  test.  I  have  had  my  doubts  on 
i  lany  points,  and  some  of  the  most  thought- 
i  al  are  troubled  this  way.  I  have  been  told 
iliat  doubts  were  but  temptations  ;  they  may 
1"*,  but  they  generally  tempt  me  to  seek  for 
i  11  explanation.  I  have  often  said  that  there 
;  re  many  things  in  the  Scriptures  hard  to  be 
understood  ;  but  on  the  whole,  I  still  accept 
th^m,  as  containing  more  truth  than  I  can 
ind  anywhere  else.  I  have  full  reliance  on 
1  heir  authenticity,  and  do  not  fear  to  hear  all 
i  hat  can  be  said  against  what  the  Christian 
vorld  has  accepted  as  Divine  Revelation." 

"  Tliis,  then,  is  an  honest  conclusion,"  replied 
TIr.  Mannors.  "If  men  are  hereafter  to  be 
punished  for  the  rejection  of  that  revelation, 
the  subject  becomes  more  momentous,  and  they 
f-hould  endeavor  by  all  means  to  ascertain 
whether  the  Bible  contains  that  pure  truth 
which  is  claimed  for  it.  No  just  Being  can  be 
cffendei  if  we  submit  the  Scriptures  to  such 
lair  tests  as  reason  and  common  sense  may 
f-uggest. 

"  Now,  to  proceed,  we  find  that  the  earliest 
racords  concerning  the  human  family  lead  ua 
to  believe  that  men  in  almost  every  age  and 
dime  have  inclined  to  some  f  >rm  of  religion, 
und  have  worshiped  some  particular  idol  or 
divinity,  or  a  number  of  such,  peculiar  to 
their  own  race  or  nation. 

"  There  are,  it  is  said,  a  few  very  degraded 
tribes  who  have  no  conception  of  supernatural 
beings,  and  who  do  not,  therefore,  practice  any 
form  of  worship;  but,  as  a  general  fact,  it 
may  be  accepted  that  religion  has  been  a 
prevailing  idea  amongst  mankind. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  our  purpose  to  try  and 
trace  the  origin  of  the  religious  idea ;  it  is 
merely  sufficient  to  state,  that  the  most  ancient 
religious  ceremonies  ara  said  to  have  been  first 
practiced  in  Egypt ;  and  from  thence  the  whole 
world  has  become  indoctrinated  with  forms 
and  ceremonies  almost  innumerable. 

"  Religion  has  been  always  surrounded  with 
mysteries  ;  and,  for  the  purpose  of  disseminat 
ing  its  principles,  the  order  of  priests  was  in 
stituted.*  They  have  generally  assumed  to 

*  The  author  of  the  Celtic  Drulrli,  a  learned  work 
published  in  London,  says :  "  Of  all  the  evils  that  es 
caped  from  Pandora's  ho  x.  the  institution  of  priesthoods 
w;is  the  worst.  Priests  have  been  the  curse  of  tho 
world.  And  if  we  admit  the  merits  of  m:iny  of  those 
of  our  own  time  to  he  as  preeminent  above  all  others 
if  the  esprit  de  corps  of  the  most  self-contented  in 
dividual  of  the  order  may  Incite  him  to  consider  them, 
great  as  I  am  willing  to  allow  the  merits  of  individuals 


have  been  possessed  of  superior  information, 
and  to  be  able  to  regulate  the  intercourse  be 
tween  man  and  his  Deity.  Religious  teachers,  aa 
a  class,  are  mostly  men  who  h  \veever  been  sup 
ported  in  luxury  and  power,  and  whose  interest 
it  is  to  persuade  others  that  they  alone  are  ca 
pable  of  giving  or  imparting  religious  informa 
tion.  An  able  writer*  on  this  subject  says : 
'  There  were  such  bodies  of  professional  priests 
in  ancient  Egypt,  in  Babylon,  in  Persia,  in  Gaul, 
in  Phoenicia,  in  Judi^a,  in  Etruria,  and  in  Greece. 
There  are  such  priosts  now  in  Japan,  in  Hin- 
dostan,  in  Thibet,  in  Arabia,  in  Russia,  in 
France,  in  England,  an  i  in  Utah,  and  among 
many  other  civilized  and  barbarous  nations. 
The  several  classes  of  priests  of  no  two  of  the 
lands  specially  mentioned  taught  or  teach  the 
same  creed.  There  have  been  at  least  two 
hundred  different  religious  creeds  taught,  and 
extensively  received  among  men,  different 
from,  and  Inconsistent  with  each  other.'  And 
he  further  says  :  '  History  tells  us  that,. in  an 
cient  times,  the  people  were  very  ignorant  and 
superstitious,  and  easily  imposed  upon,  and  the 
priests  were  numerous,  and  so  influential  that 
they  could  induce  the  people  to  believe  or  do 
almost  any  thing.  It  was  the  common  belief 
among  the  political  rulers,  that  government 
could  not  be  firmly  established,  or  morality 
preserved  without  the  aid  of  superstition,  the 
terror  of  the  gods,  and  an  implicit  faith  that 
the  laws  were  of  divine  origin  ;  and  this  belief 
frequently  governed  their  action.  Numa,Lycur- 
gus,  Zaleucus,  Pythagoras,  and  scores  of  other 
lawgivers  asserted  that  their  codes  were  com 
municated  to  them  by  the  gods.  Diodorus  Sicu- 
lus  tells  us  that  the  purpose  of  these  claims  to 
divine  origin  for  human  laws  was  to  insure  the 
supremacy  and  permanence  of  constitutions 
which  would  have  been  much  less  secure  with 
out  the  mighty  protection  of  superstition. 
The  laws  of  Egypt,  Hindostan,  Persia,  and 
Babylon  were  all  ostensibly  dictated  or  writ 
ten  word  for  word  in  heaven.' 

"  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  priests  and 
propagators  of  almost  every  religion  claim  for 
their  own  particular  belief  a  divine  revelation. 
The  Egyptians  asserted  that  their  mysterious 
rites  had  this  authority.  And,  at  the  present 
day.so  do  the  Brahmins,  and  the  Buddhists,  and 
the  Jews,  and  the  Christians,  and  the  Moham 
medans,  and  the  Mormons — this  is  the  latest 
revelation,  one  of  our  own  times  —and  all  who 
can  boast  of  a  written  creed  claim  that  their 
books  are  inspired,  which  to  doubt  would  be 
to  imperil  salvation. 

"Creeds,  then,  have  been  established,  and  hu 
man  beings  are  found  in  every  country  pro 
fessing  some  particular  form  of  faith,  and  cer 
tain  parts  of  the  earth  are  almost  entirely  gov 
erned  and  influenced  by  peculiar  religious  prin- 

to  be,  I  will  not  allow  that  they  form  exceptions  strong 
enough  to  destroy  the  general  nature  of  the  rule. 
Look  at  China ;  at  the  festival  of  Juggernaut ;  the 
Crusades ;  the  massacres  of  St.  Bartholomew :  of  the 
Mexicans  and  the  Peruvians ;  the  fires  of  the  Inquisi 
tion  ;  of  Mary,  Cranmer,  Calvin,  and  of  the  Druids ! 
Look  at  Ireland ;  look  at  Spain ;  in  short,  look  every 
where,  and  every  where  you  will  see  the  priests  reeking 
with  gore.  They  have  converted  populous  and  happy 
nations  Into  deserts ;  and  have  transformed  our  beau- 
tlful  world  iuto  a  sla»?hter-house,  dreuched  with  blood 
and  tears." 
*  Hittel. 


EXETER    HALL. 


ciples.  Let  a  man  but  name  his  religion,  and 
you  can  tell  whether  he  is  an  Asiatic  or  an 
European  ;  let  him  name  his  country,  and  you 
can  almost  tell  to  a  certainty  to  what  subdivi 
sion  of  faith  he  belongs.  Certain  zones  favor 
the  production  of  a  certain  fruit  ;  and  par 
ticular  parts  of  the  earth  have  each  a  par 
ticular  creed.  In  one  quarter  of  the  world,  the 
worship  of  Brahma  or  Buddha  may  prevail ; 
in  another,  tliat  of  Confucius  or  Christ ;  in 
another,  that  of  Mormon  or  Mohamned.  The 
fact  is,  most  men  get  their  creeds  in  their 
cradles ;  by  early  inculcation,  men  are  to  be 
found  in  the  degrading  worship  of  idols  and 
animals,  of  mountains  and  rivers,  of  sunlight 
and  of  darkness,  and  of  imaginary  deities, 
benevolent  or  otherwise,  corresponding  with 
tiie  moral  perceptions  of  their  worshipers. 
The  God  of  one  nation  may  be  kind  and  bene 
volent,  while  the  God  of  another  may  be  de 
picted  as  influenced  by  ungovernable  pas 
sions — fierce,  exacting,  capricious,  and  revenge 
ful.  To  use  the  words  of  Schiller,  '  Man 
pants  himself  in  his  gods.' 

"Hereafter,  then,  we  shall  consider  what 
the  influence  of  religion  has  beun  to  mankind, 
but  for  ihe  present,  I  shall  merely  state  that 
human  beings,  in  almost  every  part  of  the 
habitable  globe,  have  submitted  to  its  control. 
According  to  an  estimate  made  in  the  year 
1S44,  the  number  of  followers  of  the  principal 
creeds  were :  Buddhists,  380,000,000  ;  Chris 
tians,  230,000,000  ;  Mohammedans,  160,000,- 
000;  Brahmins,  150,000,000;  Pagans,  70,000,- 
000 ;  Jews,  10,000,000  ;  in  all,  1,000,000,000. 

"  The  creed  or  belief  with  which  we  have 
now  to  do,"  continued  Mr.  Manners,  "  is  the 
creed  of  Christendom,  known  as  Christianity. 
The  adherents  of  this  faith  tell  us  that  their 
religion  is  derived  from  a  lx>ok  called  the 
'  Bible,'  and  that  this  book  is  a  divine  revela 
tion,  written  many  centuries  ago,  by  inspired 
men,  and  contains  in  itself  the  essence  of  di 
vine  truth. 

"  It  therefore  appears  that  what  the  Shatter 
is  to  the  Brahmin,  or  the  Koran  to  the  Mo 
hammedan,  the  Bible  is  to  the  Christian. 
Now,  if  the  Bible  is  truly  a  revelation  from 
God,  for  the  instruction,  edification,  and  re 
formation  of  man,  there  can  be  no  possible 
impropriety  in  a  critical  examination  of  its 
contents.  This  was  the  view  taken  by  many 
eminent  men,  who  from  the  earliest  times — 
century  alter  century — had  submitted  the 
scriptural  books  to  a  careful  investigation  ; 
and  notwithstanding  the  claims  to  inspiration 
made  for  the  Bible  by  its  theologians,  it  has 
been  rejected  time  after  time  by  many  learned 
men  and  distinguished  writers  who  were  co- 
temporary  with  the  supposed  scribes  both  of 
the  Old  and  the  New  Testaments. 

"  Without  going  back  to  ancient  ages  for 
authorities  in  support  of  this  assertion,  we 
find  in  modern  times,  and  more  particularly 
In  our  own  day,  a  widespread  and  increas 
ing  opposition  to  the  pretensions  of  Christian 
ity.  That  opposition  has  not  arisen  from  the 
ignorant,  uneducated  masses,  but  from  several 
of  the  most  intellectual,  scientific,  and  distin 
guished  men,  who,  with  a  vast  number  of 
other  thinkers,  also  brought  up  in  the  Chris 
tian  faith,  now  boldly,  and  with  no  small  share 


of  moral  courage,  reject  its  doctrines  as  spur! 
ous,  and  as  degrading  and  inconsistent  in  rela 
tion  to  the  attributes  and  perfections  of  an  all- 
wise  benevolent  Being.  Not  only  have  dis 
tinguished  laymen  repudiated  the  Scriptures, 
but  actual  priests  of  the  altar,  like  the  late 
Rev.  Robert  Taylor  of  the  Church  of  England, 
have  nobly  resigned  a  living  of  ease  and 
luxury,  and  have  left  a  sanctuary  where  they 
could  worship  no  longer,  perhaps  to  enter  a 
prison  as  alleged  blasphemers.  But  from 
within  the  Avails  of  Oakliam  jail,  and  from 
the  able  pen  of  the  same  Robert  Taylor,  came 
forth  in  due  time  the  Diegesis  and  Syntagma, 
works  which  have  caused  hundreds  to  inves 
tigate  more  closely  the  presumptuous  tenets 
of  his  reverend  persecutors. 

"  Since  the  Reformation,  when  men  could 
dare  to  speak  and  act  more  freely,  unanswer 
able  arguments  have  been  published  against 
the  validity  of  the  so-called  sacred  writings  of 
Christianity.  But  instead  of  a  fair  reply  having 
been  granted,  or  a  fair  open  discussion  tole 
rated  by  the  trained  and  paid  religious  teach 
ers,  misrepresentations  have  been  printed,  de 
famation  has  been  used,  penalties  have  been 
inflicted,  and  books  containing  calm,  reason 
able  argument  against  the  Christian  Bible — 
not  written  under  the  idiotic  afflatus  of  in 
spiration—have  been  systematically  proscribed, 
to  such  an  extent  that  not  one  bookseller  out  of 
fil'ty  will  venture  to  offer  them  for  sale.  Few 
indeed,  dare  to  oppose  Christian  prohibition 
Protestant  toleration  in  this  respect  is  strange 
ly  suspicious ;  and  its  boasted  liberality  sin 
gularly  spurious  and  deceptive." 

"  To  some  extent,  I  acknowledge  that  such 
has  been  the  case,"  said  Mr.  Capel.  "  I  have 
often  regretted  that  works  published  against 
Christianity  were  not  allowed  the  privilege 
of  as  free  circulation  as  the  excellent  books  of 
Paley,  Butler,  Gregory,  and  many  others, 
written  in  defense  of  the  Bible.  As  far  as  I 
can  learn,  such  writings  are  fully  able  to 
counteract  any  publications  against  the  Holy 
Scriptures ;  candid  investigation  ought  to 
make  truth  more  apparent." 

"  Then,"  continued  Mr.  Mannors,  "  why 
do  priests  assert  so  confidently  that  the  writ 
ings  and  arguments  of  unbelievers  are  but 
trivial  and  worthless,  yet  take  such  wonderful 
pains  to  prevent  their  coming  under  the 
notice  of  pious  eyes?  I  will  now  ask  you  in 
all  fairness,  have  you  ever  read  any  of  the 
works  written  against  the  pretensions  of  the 
Bible?  Have  you  ever  read  the  Age  of  Rea 
son,  Greg's  Creed  of  Christendom,  Hittel's  Evi 
dence*,  the  Diegexi*,  or  any  of  the  able  works 
of  De  Wette,  Strauss,  Hume,  Rev.  Robert 
Taylor,  Kne  'land,  and  others?  You  have  no 
doubt  read  several,  if  not  all  of  the  books  in 
favor  of  Christianity  ;  now  have  you  read  any 
against  that  system  ?" 

"  I  have  not ;  in  fact,  I  have  never  seen  one 
of  the  books  you  mention." 

"  Then  you  can  have  no  correct  idea  of  the 
objections  which  have  been  urged  by  distin 
guished  persons  against  your  faith.  You 
have  had  merely  the  pulpit,  or  tract,  or  ortho 
dox  burlesque,  or  misrepresentation  of  the 
statements  made  by  prominent  unbelievers." 

"  Perhaps  so ;  yet  I  scarcely  think  that  re- 


EXETER    HALL. 


61 


ligioua  persons   would   misrepresent  to  the 
extent  you  imagine." 

••  As  it  would  be  impossible  for  us  in  a 
limited,  discussion  t,o  do  more  than  give  a 
partial  investigation  will  yo.u  read  any  of  the 
denounced  books,  if  I  procure  them  for  youV" 
said  Mr.  Mannors. 

"  Most  certainly ;  I  will  readily  do  so.  I 
have  no  fears  in  that  respect." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  this  ;  I  will  not  frighten 
you  at  first,"  said  Mr.  Mannors  humorously, 
•with  either  Paine  or  Voltaire,  or  any  other 
•uicli  terrible  name.  I  will  give  you  a  small 
work,  as  a  commencement,  which  can  not  be 
surpassed  for  tbe  fair,  plain,  unpretending 
manner  in  which  it  deals  with  the  Bible." 
Here  he  opened  a  book-case,  and  handed  Mr. 
v'apel  a  small  volume  entitled.  Greg's  Creed 
>f  Christendom.  "  You  will,"  continued  he, 
'  be  pleased  with  the  style  in  which  it  is  writ 
ten  ;  and  afterward,  if  you  desire,  I  will  give 
you  other  books  which  go  more  thoroughly 
-.nto  the  subject.  And  now,  in  return,  if  there 
are  any  -books  in  favor  of  Christianity  which 
you  would  wish  me  to  read,  I  shall  do  so,  and 
by  such  means  be  better  able  to  come  to  a 
more  thorough  conclusion." 

"  This  is  very  fair,"  said  Mr.  Capel ;  "  there 
?an  be  no  objection  to  such  a  course.  I  have 
jne  book  which  I  will  then  ask  you  to  look 
over — that  is,  Gregory's  Incidences." 

"Agreed;  I  have  already  perused  Paley 
and  several  others,  it  may  be  that  Gregory 
will  offer  something  new.  You  see,  however, 
that  neither  Christianity,  nor  any  other  system 
:an  force  belief  by  denouncing  free  inquiry  ; 
Cor,  atthe  present  day,  no  prudent  or  intelligent 
man  will  scoff  at  the  arguments  of  unbelief, 
•:>r  look  with  contempt  upon  the  religious 
opinions  of  Hume,  Gibbon,  Shelley,  Paine, 
Fronde,  Bentham,  Carlyle,  Jefferson,  Greg, 
Parker,  Volney,  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  Buffon, 
Comte,  Spinoza,  De  VVette,  Taylor,  Colenso, 
and  a  host  of  such  others.  Nearly  all  of  the 
persons  I  have  named  have  written  against 
the  received  Divine  Inspiration  of  the  Bfble; 
and  it  is  poor  evidence  of  justice  to  pronounce 
an  unlimited  condemnation  against  their  de 
li  berate  >pinions,  or  even  against  the  opinions 
of  the  multitude  of  cautious  doubters,  who 
for  want  of  moral  courage  still  remain  nomi 
nal  Christians. 

"  We  will  leave  the  subject  for  the  present ; 
one  day's  calm  perusal  of  the  books  we  have 
chosou  may  be  better  than  a  week  of  discus 
sion.  We  shall  compare  notes  from  time  to 
time,  and  see  what  advance  we  shall  have 
made  toward  the  great  luminary,  truth,  which 
we  both  desire  to  worship." 

During  this  his  first  conference  with  Mr. 
Mannors,  the  young  preacher  felt  more  in 
clined  to  listen  than  to  speak  ;  having  never 
before  had  an  opportunity  of  discussion  with 
an  unbeliever,  he  wished  to  elicit  the  leading 
views  of  such  an  opponent.  He  was  surprised 
at  the  fairness  and  candor  of  Mr.  Mannors ; 
and  when  they  left  the  room  together,  to  take 
a  walk  along  the  pleasant  highway,  the 
prayer  of  Mr.  Capei's  heart  was  for  light — 
more  light. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

SHORTLY  after  the  stormy  Bible  meeting 
which  had  taken  place  in  the  Baptist  Church, 
the  leading  members  of  the  congregation  »f 
St.  Andrew's  who  were  then  present,  and  who 
had  been  obliged  to  witness  the  rudeness  and 
discourtesy  wnich  had  been  manifested  to  Dr. 
Buster  on  that  occasion,  felt  that  some  demon 
stration  in  his  behalf  was  necessary,  in  order  to 
give  a  quiet  rebuke  to  those  who  had  en 
deavored  to  lessen  that  esteemed  minister  in 
public  estimation  ;  as  well  as  to  satisfy  that 
devoted  Christian  that  the  rude  trial  to  which 
his  faith  and  patience  had  been  subjected  only 
served  to  endear  him  etill  more  and  more  to 
his  own  people  ;  and  to  prove  to  the  world 
that  he  was  superior  to  the  low  motives  of 
cunning  and  jealousy  which  had  evidently 
actuated  the  vulgar,  uneducated  aspirants  of 
other  denominations. 

A  committee  of  ladies  was  soon  formed,  and 
after  various  preliminary  meetings  and  delibe 
rations,  it  was  decided  that,  as  a  corresponding 
addition  to  the  fascinating  eye-glass  witii 
which  he  had  been  previously  presented,  a 
superb  gold-headed  cane  should  now  be 
furnished  the  doctor.  It  would  be  a  small  but 
significant  token,  or  rather  emblem,  or  the 
staff  he  was  to  them,  as  well  as  to  assure  him 
that  he  would  find  his  numerous  friends  united 
like  a  pillar  of  strength  in  the  day  of  trouble. 

In  fact.  Dr.  Buster  had  in  many  instances 
received  valuable  testimonials  of  such  attach 
ment.  He  was  a  gifted  individual,  a  moral 
hero,  a  stickler  for  the  pure  Calvinistic  doctrine, 
who  had  won  the  esteem  of  ministers  over 
whom  he  presided,  and  through  them,  as  well 
as  by  other  influences,  he  was  exalted  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people  ;  so  much  so,  that  many 
particularly  the  female  members  of  the  church, 
never  seemed  tired  of  lavishing  favors  and 
distinctions  upon  him,  all  of  which  the 
worthy  man  received  with  due  and  humble 
acknowledgment.  Indeed,  so  often  and  so  re 
freshing  had  these  evidences  been,  that  the 
pious  doctor  more  than  once  feelingly  stated, 
that  he  was  quite  overcome  by  those  unex 
pected  and  undeserved  proofs  of  spiritual  af 
fection.  He  would  then  reiterate  his  entire 
un worthiness,  and  his  utter  inability  to  do 
any  thing  of  himself;  he  would  piously  tell 
them  that  his  sole  reliance  was  upon  God,  in 
whose  mighty  hand  he  was  but  a  very  weak 
and  unworthy  instrument. 

He  might  have  thought  so  ;  the  gifts  ho»*- 
ever  were  not  declined,  but  were  gratefully 
accepted,  not  of  course  for  their  intrinsic  value, 
but  as  mere  remembrances  of  how  much  his 
weak  efforts  had  been  overrated.  They  would 
be  incentives  to  fresh  zeal  in  the  cause  oi 
orthodox  principles,  and  would  make  him 
more  anxious  to  advance  the  interests  of  the 
true  Calvinistic  church.  He  could  look  around, 
and  see  many  of  these  presentations,  but, 
strange  to  say,  he  did  not  seem  to  value 
them.  There  was  more  than  one  richly  bound 
Bible ;  there  were  gilt-edged  volumes  from 
the  Fathers,  and  valuable  works  by  various 
religious  authors ;  and  comprehensive  and 
learned  commentaries,  sufficient  to  enable  him 
to  give  some  meaning  to  doubtful  pussageb 


62 


EXETER     HALL. 


and  miscellaneous  gift-books  piled  up  in  such   alienate  their  affections  from  the  things  of  this 


profusion  that  the  worthy  man  had  scarcely 
more  time  to  spare  from  his  various  duties 
than  merely  to  read  the  presentation  page, 


world,  and  to  devote  themselves  more  freely 
to  the  work  of  their  Heavenly  Master. 

In  connection  with  this  subject  the  reverend 


where  his  own  name  was  proudly  con- ,  doctor  reiterated  his  disinterested  opinion 
spicuous.  Then  there  were  scriptural  subjects  regarding  the  bestowal  of  costly  gifts  upon 
on  canvass,  in  rich,  heavy  frames  ;  there  was  the  servants  of  the  Lord.  "  Of  what  value," 
his  massive  gold  watch,  to  remind  him  of  I  he  asked,  "  were  such  things  to  those  who  ha'd 
fleeting  time,  besides  little  articles  of  virtu  \  renounced  the  world  and  its  vanities '?  How 
and  chaste  specimens  of  bijouterie,  from  pious,  much  better  it  would  be  were  the  minister 
individual,  female  friends  ;  but  above  all,  there  forgotten,  and  the  humble  poor  held  in  greater 
was  the  splendid  service  of  plate,  presented  to  remembrance."  He  felt  it  his  duty  to  state 
him  but  a  few  months  before  he  had  been  for-  that,  agreeable  as  it  must,  be  to  any"  person  to 
saken  by  her  who  should  have  been  his  help- '  receive  such  tokens  of  esteem,  it  would  be  to 
mate ;  on  the  principal  piece  of  which  his  him  much  more  so,  were  the  money  which 
name  and  worth  had  been  inscribed,  surround-  j  was  lavished — he  used  this  word  emphatical- 


ed  by  a  halo  of  flourish  and  ornamentation. 
This  rich  service  was  now,  alas !  useless ;  it 
was  laid  aside.  Was  not  his  home  desolate 
enough  ?  The  glare  of  the  rich  m^tal  might 
only  serve  to  remind  him,  the  afflicted  pastor, 
of  the  vanities  of  life,  and  of  what  he  was 
called  upon  to  suffer  in  the  cause  of  the  Gos 
pel. 

On  this  particular    evening,  however,   the 


ly — to  obtain  costly  articles,  placed  in  his 
hands  for  charitable  purposes,  lie  did  not 
care  for  these  things.  How  grateful  it  would 
be  to  him  were  he  enabled  by  such  means  to 
relieve,  to  a  greater  extent,  the  sufferings  of 
the  uncomplaining  poor  which  his  daily  visita 
tions  had  led  him  to  discover — sufferings  with 
which  he  deeply  sympathized,  but  which, 
alas !  too  often  pained  him  to  the  very  heart 


Rev.  Theophilus  Buster  was  very  happy  ;    at    to  be  unable  to  mitigate." 

least,  those  who  met  him  at  the  house  of  the       Such  expressions  from  the  reverend  doctor 


Rev.  Mr.  Campbell  thought  so.  Since  he  had 
been  so  unexpectedly  deserted  by  his  wife,  Dr. 
Buster  never  asked  any  person  to  his  house. 
It  was  now  to  him  like  a  prison  ;  for  appearance' 
sake  he  merely  lodged  in  it,  and  he  took  his 
meals  here  and  there,  as  most  convenient,  not 
having  yet  decided  on  any  particular  place. 
He  could  not  let  the  gloom  which  surrounded 
his  late  home  affect  his  children  ;  he  had  them 
removed  from  its  dreary  influence,  and  proper 
ly  cared  for  in  another  quarter.  He  could  not 
bear  to  hear  them  ask  for  the  mother  who  had 
abandoned  them;  or  even  to  mention  her 
name. 

These  were  depressing  circumstances ;  but 


under  the  circumstances,  could  not  fail  to  win 
for  him  a  still  greater  degree  of  considera 
tion.  Such  abnegation  was  a  rare  virtue  ;  it 
was  a  triumphant  refutation  of  the  malicious 
slanders  that  had  been  heaped  upon  this  ex 
emplary  man.  And  so  great  was  his  influence 
at  that  moment,  so  great  was  their  generous 
impulse  toward  him,  that  a  single  hint  would 
have  sufficed  to  urge  every  lady  present  to  fling 
around  his  neck  her  rich  gold  chain  and 
jeweled  locket,  as  an  offering  to  his  worth 
and  self-denial,  and  as  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar 
of  charity. 

A  few  hours  had  thus  been  spent,  and  all  pre 
sent  were  highly  pleased  and  edified.     It  was 


when  the  reverend  doctor  was  asked  to  meet  getting  late,  and  as  Dr.  Buster  was  as  metho- 
any  friends  at  Mr.  Campbell's,  he  endeavored  to  j  dical  in  his  habits  a«  he  was  punctual  in  hia 
join  them  with  a  smiling  face,  like  an  upright  engagements,  he  signified  this  to  his  friends. 


Christian.  He  did  not  desire  to  obtrude  his 
sorrows  upon  others,  and  he  generally  succeed 
ed  in  making  his  visits  very  agreeable ;  and 
in  making  many — particularly  pious  ladies — 
believe  that  his  light  affliction  only  served  to 
make  his  discourse  more  heavenly. 

As  usual,  when  the  doctor  was  in  the  case, 
a  very  numerous  and  select  party  had  as 
sembled  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Campbell's,  and  after 
a  most  sumptuous  repast,  the  presentation  of 
the  gold-headed  cane  was  made  by  one  of 
the  most  affluent  and  influential  ladies  of 
the  congregation  of  St.  Andrew's  ;  and  the 
pretty  speech  which  she  read  on  the  occasion, 
referring  to  the  great  services  of  the  reverend 
moderator,  and  of  his  still  greater  trials — 
delicately  alluding  to  the  peculiar  domestic 


affliction  under  which  he  at  present  labored 
was  rapturously  applauded. 


His  dwelling  was  several  streets  distant  from 
Mr.  Campbell's,  and  as  he  had  an  appoint 
ment  with  a  friend  on  his  way  home,  he 
refused  to  allow  any  person  to  accompany 
him.  At  his  request,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Campbell 
offered  up  a  parting  prayer,  and,  at  the  con 
clusion,  the  moderator  never  looked  more  in 
spired  than  he  did,  when  with  closed  eyes  and 
upraised  hands  he  devoutly  gave  the  usual 
benediction.  And  when  he  went  away,  it 
seemed  to  many  as  if  some  pure  spirit  had 
departed,  and  for  some  time  afterward  the 
theme  of  those  who  remained  related  to  hia 
piety,  his  virtue,  and  his  sufferings. 

The  night  was  dark  when  the  doctor  left 
the  house,  and  when  he  got  a  short  distance 
beyond  the  light  that  was  flung  out  from  the 


windows  of  Mr.  Campbell's  residence,  he  hur 
ried  on.     It  had  just  then  commenced  to  rain, 

In  responding  to  this  fresh  evidence  of  their  •  not  in  a  dripping  shower,  but  it  came  in  pat- 
regard,  the  learned  doctor,  as  usual,  disclaim-  j  tering  drops  like  the  regular  precursors  of 
ed  any  merit  in  himself.  He  was  duly  sensible  j  a  down-pouring.  The  doctor  increased  his 
of  his  own  unworthiuess,  and  he  was  almost  steps,  and  walked  faster  and  faster.  He  wore 


unmanned  by  the  gentle  words  spoken  in 
reference  to  his  forlorn  condition.  No  doubt 
these  trials  havu  iheir  good  effects  ;  they  en 
able  the  ministers  of  God  the  more  fully  to 


a  heavy  cloak,  and  kept  his  face  well  muffled  ; 
he  went  along  at  a  quick  rate,  and  now  com 
menced  to  mutter  to  himself;  and,  in  a  little 
time,  the  words  became  almost  distinct  and 


EXETER    HALL. 


63 


audible.  He  walked  on  in  tins  manner  for 
some  minutes  ;  it  was  now  raining  heavily, 
and  he  suddenly  turned  into  an  arched  pas 
sage  through  which  a  street  lamp,  directly  in 
front,  sent  sufficient  light  to  make  objects 
dimly  visible.  Here  the  doctor  stopped  ;  he 
still  muttered,  and  then  he  drew  the  hand 
some  cane  from  under  his  cloak,  and  held  it 

0  it  at  arm's  length  before  him.      But  stay, 
L  ark !     What  were  the  words  he  now  uttered, 
B  ifficiently  loud,   sharp,  and  distinct,  to   be 
plainly  heard  ?    This  person  surely  could  not 
b  ;  the  reverend  moderator :  these  foul,  passion- 
a  e  words  could  not  certainly  have  proceeded 
from  his  lips. 

He  still  held  out  the  cane,  and  its  polished 
fOOothnesB,  and  massive  gold  carving  flashed 
in  the  lamplight ;  he  looked  at  it  as  if  every 
moment  he  expected  to  see  it  become  some 
e  lining  reptile,  or  that  he  intended  to  fling  it 
c  )ntemptuously  against  the  rough  wall,  and 
break  it  to  pieces. 

"  I  say  again,  blast  their  stupidity !  I  have 
t  >ld  them  time  after  time  that  I  did  not  care 
for  their  baubles;  and  the  miserable  dolts 
liil  to  perceive  that  I  ever  want  money.  Here 

1  t  this  thing — fit  only  for  a  Regent   street 
dandy — put  into  my  hand  instead  of — gold! 
It'  I  were  to  be  exhibited  like  a  wax  figure  at 
Madame  Tussaud's.  this  pretty  piece  of  foppery 
i  light  help  to  set  me  off;  but,  my  God  !  just 
t )  think  of  the  fools  spending  tlie  money  I 
vant  so  badly  for  the  like  of  this — twenty 
p  uineas !     My  heavens,  how  provoking  1" 

He  had  now  balanced  the  stick  on  his  open 
liand,  and  as  he  said  these  words  he  gave  it  a 
einart  toss  in  the  air,  and  caught  it  in  its 
descent  as  he  would  a  penny  piece. 

"Well,  may  confusion  seize  them!  here's 
that  cursed  note  for  over  a  hundred  pounds  to 
be  met  in  less  than  a  week,  and  these  finical 


"  Well,  I'm  blowed  if  that  is'nt  old  Buster," 
said  Robert.  "  I've  seen  him  before,  and  I've 
heerd  about  him,  the  precious  hypocrite.  He 
beant  about  for  nothing ;  he  wants  gold,  does 
he  ?  I'll  lay  that  chap  is  up  to  summat.  I  say, 
Sam,  I'd  just  like  to  find  out  what  that  fellow 
is  about ;  let's  after  him  a  bit,  he's  going  our 
way." 

"  All  right — go  ahead,  steamboat — there 
an't  no  time  to  talk,  that  ere  man  is  streak 
ing  it  right  through.  I  want  to  turn  Jew,  and 
get  that  pretty  stick  o'  his'n ;  but  stop, 
what's  this  ?"  and  he  stooped  and  picked  up  a 
folded  paper  from  near  the  spot  where  Doctor 
Buster  had  been  standing,  and  taking  it  to  the 
light,  read — "  A.  M.  North  street,  near  Jewish 
cemetery  " — "  This  is  something  o'  his'n,"  said 
he,  handing  Robert  the  paper;  "just  put  that 
away,  it  might  come  a  kind  o'  handy  after  a 
while." 

Robert  put  the  paper  in  his  breast  pocket, 
and  off  they  started.  As  they  hurried  along, 
he  gave  his  friend  a  little  of  what  he  knew  of 
the  history  of  the  reverend  doctor,  to  whom  they 
were  now  paying  such  attention  ;  he  was  still 
well  ahead  of  them,  and  had  he  turned  either 
to  the  right  or  left,  he  might  have  escaped 
their  curiosity  altogether. 

Robert's  friend,  whom  he  called  Sam,  was  a 
slightly  built,  wiry-looking  young  man ;  he 
was  a  true  Yankee,  fond  of  adventure,  was  de 
lighted  with  this  little  chase,  and  lik'e  his 
enterprising  countrymen,  he  was  determined 
to  find  the  bottom  of  the  well,  and  strike  He 
before  he  gave  up. 

They  were  gaining  fast  upon  the  doctor  ;  he 
oukl  now  hear  their  steps,  and  he  turned  round 
once  or  twice,  which  caused  them  to  come  to 
a  dead  halt,  lest  he  should  become  suspicious. 
He  went  on  again,  and  turning  down  a  lane  to 
his  left  disappeared  ;  and  when  they  got  to 


jades  throw  almost  as  much  away  for  this  as  ;  the  corner,  and  looked  down  the  dark,  narrow 
would  have   enabled   me  to  get  a  renewal,    street,    the  doctor  was  nowhere  to  be   seen. 


Well,  well,  it  is  hard  to  appear  content  before 
them ;  I  have  a  mind  to  sell  this  precious  bit  of 
trumpery  to  the  first  Jew  I  meet,  if  I  should 
only  get  a  third  of  its  value." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  muttered 
again;  the  rain  was  falling  fast:  he  looked 
around,  and  peered  into  the  dim  passage  as  if 
he  feared  the  presence  of  some  person.  For 
a  few  minutes  longer  he  remained  perfectly 
still  and  thoughtful,  with  eyes  bent  steadily  on 
the  ground  ;  lie  drew  a  long  breath,  looked  at 
liia  watch,  and  again  said  audibly,  "  Quarter 
past  ten — they  are  waiting,"  and  muffling  his 
face  once  more,  he  started  down  the  dark 
street  seemingly  indifferent  to  the"  drenching 
rain,  or  the  starless  sky. 

The  doctor  had  scarcely  left  where  he  had 
stood  when  two  persons  stepped  from  a  door 
way  that  was  at  the  dark  end  of  the  passage, 
and  rushed  forward  to  look  after  him.  One  was 
Robert,  who  lived  at  Hampstead  with  Mr. 
Mannors ;  the  other  was  a  stranger,  an 
American  relation  of  his,  who  had  been  only 
a  few  days  in  England.  Robert  had  come 
down  to  the  city  to  meet  him,  and  show  him 
the  sights  of  London,  and  here  was  one — an 
unexpected  scene — that  made  Robert  himself 
stare  with  surprise. 

"  Skeered,  Bob,  an't  you?"  asked  the  strang 
er  humorously. 


They  stood  irresolute  for  a  short  time. 
Robert  was  for  hurrying  on,  but  his  friend, 
laying  his  hand  on  his  arm  quietly,  said, 
"Take  it  easy,  Bob  ;  'tan't  no  use  crowding  the 
critter  too  hard ;  he  an't  far,  he's  a  looking 
for  gold,  I  reckon ;  maybe  he's  got  a  little 
Calitbrny  hereabouts :  guess  we'll  fish  him 
out  presently." 

The  third  house  from  the  corner  of  the 
street  was  a  small  tavern  ;  the  gas  lamp  over 
the  door  displayed  the  rather  common  sign  of 
the  Swan  Inn.  The  lights  from  within  shone 
brightly  through  the  windows,  giving  an  ex 
hibition  of  glasses,  and  painted  kegs,  and 
casks,  and  rows  of  bright  pewter  mugs.  There 
w«re  no  lights  to  be  seen  in  the  houses  close 
by,  and  this  led  Robert  to  suspect  that  the 
doctor  had  entered  the  tavern.  There  was 
but  one  door  in  front,  and  they  did  not  think 
it  best  to  go  in  for  a  while ;  he  might  have 
only  taken  a  temporary  refuge  from  the  rain  ; 
he  was  not  likely  to  be  known  in  such  a  place, 
and  if  he  did  not  come  out  so  m,  they  might 
then  enter  and  see  for  themselves. 

It  was  agreed  that  Robert  should  walk  a 
little  way  up  the  street,  or  lane,  while  Sam 
remained  opposite  the  tavern;  a  small  porch 
afforded  a  shelter  for  this  purpose,  and  before 
Robert  started,  he  thought  it  best  to  look 
closely  around  the  house.  There  was  no  ont 


EXETER    HALL. 


to  be  seen  outside  ;  the  place  at  best  was  not 
a  noted  thoroughfare,  and  now,  in  the  dark 
ness  and  rain,  it  had  an  unusually  deserted 
appearance.  He  cautiously  approached  the 
front  window,  and  saw  a  woman  mixing  some 
thing  in  a  few  tumblers.  He  went  to  the  side 
of  the  house ;  there  was  a  passage  from  the 
street  to  a  back  yard,  and  near  the  end  of 
the  building  there  was  a  side  door,  evidently 
a  private  entrance.  He  stepped  carefully 
toward  the  first  side  window,  a  kind  of  red 
screen  covered  the  lower  half;  it  was  not 
quite  drawn  across,  and  there  was  sufficient 
space  for  him  to  see  three  persons  in  a  small 
room.  They  were  sitting  at  a  table,  one  of 
them  with  his  back  to  the  window,  and  when 
he  spoke,  Robert  thought  it  was  like  the 
voice  of  the  man  they  had  heard  soliloquizing 
under  the  archway.  In  a  little  while  the 
speaker  turned  his  side  face,  and  Doctor.Buster 
was  immediately  recognized.  Robert  at  once 
signaled  Sam,  and  they  both  stood  outside, 
and  had  a  fair  view  of  what  was  going  on 
within. 

In  front  of  the  doctor  a  lady-like  person 
was  sitting ;  she  was  dressed  in  black  ;  she 
wore  a  bonnet  and  cloak,  as  if  prepared  for  a 
journey.  The  other  person  could  be  plainly 
seen  ;  he  sat  at  an  end  of  the  table  ;  he  was  a 
stout,  low-sized  man,  well  dressed ;  he  was 
partly  bald  on  the  front  part  of  his  head,  his 
hair  and  heavy  whiskers  were  turning  gray; 
there  was  an  expression  of  cunning  on  his 
face ;  but  altogether  he  looked  respectable. 

They  were  talking  in  a  low  voice,  and  al 
though  Robert  and  his  friend  Sam  listened 
attentively,  they  could  not  hear  a  word  ;  the 
conversation  was  mostly  between  Doctor  Bus 
ter  and  the  other  gentleman. 

The  landlady  now  brought  in  a  tray  with 
three  tumblers  holding  some  hot  liquid  ;  and 
when  the  door  was  again  closed  the  conversa 
tion  was  resumed. 

The  gentleman  who  sat  at  the  end  of  the 
table  appeared  very  thoughtful,  and  stroked 
his  bushy  whiskers  while  he  leaned  back  in 
his  chair  and  looked  vacantly  toward  the 
ceiling.  He  sipped  the  contents  of  his  tumbler 
leisurely  while  the  doctor  was  speaking.  The 
lady  seemed  to  be  a  quiet  listener ;  she  spoke  a 
few  words  once  or  twice.  Robert  watched 
closely  to  try  and  discover  who  she  was,  but 
a  heavy  dark  vail  hung  over  her  face,  com 
pletely  hiding  her  features. 

In  a  little  time  Doctor  Buster  stood  up;  he 
continued  to  address  the  gentleman  who  was 
pitting;  he  was  more  excited,  and  soon  spoke 
sufficiently  loud  to  permit  the  listeners  outside 
to  hear  every  word.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  I  have 
told  you  all ;  had  I  allowed  her  to  roam  about 
at  large  among  all  kinds  of  people,  she  would 
not  only  have  circulated  the  most  scandalous 
reports  against  myself,  but  against  every  friend 
I  have.  For  over  eight  months,  I  have  kept  her 
quietly  confined,  but  this  moderate  restraint 
has  only  made  her  worse.  She  has  been  well 
treated,  and  I  have  made  my  house  like  a  pri 
son  to  keep  her,  if  possible,  from  the  poisonous 
influence  of  others  ;  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
I  have  tried  to  reclaim  her  by  argument, 
by  persuasion,  and  by  other  reasonable  means  ; 
she  will  not  be  convinced,  but  blaspheme 


under  my  very  roof!  How  can  I  stand  this  \ 
If  I  reason  with  her,  she  not  will  listen  ;  and 
now  she  demands  separation,  she  demands  her 
children,  and  she  demands  an  establishment 
for  herself,  to  teach  them  her  own  errors. 
Just  think  !  she  is  bold  enough  to  denounce 
the  Bible,  to  scoff  at  religion,  and  I  found  by 
mere  chance  that  she  has  been  actually  in 
communication  with  a  person  named  Manners, 
one  of  the  most  infamous  characters  in  or 
about  London,  a  wretch,  who  by  all  accounts 
fears  neither  God  nor  man  !" 

As  the  doctor  spoke,  he  held  out  both  hands, 
and  regularly  emphasized  his  words  by  bring 
ing  his  shut  fist  down  upon  his  open  palm ; 
and  when  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Mannors,  he  did  so 
with  such  extreme  bitterness  that  Robert 
groaned  with  suppressed  indignation ;  and 
the  curse  which  he  then  muttered,  like  an 
angry  growl,  is  not  fit  to  be  recorded. 

"  I  can  not,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  stand 
this  any  longer ;  she  demands  an  establish 
ment  for  herself,  and,"  said  he,  lowering  his 
voice,  and  bending  significantly  toward  the 
individual  he  was  addressing — "  with  your  as 
sistance,  I  shall  provide  h^r  one.  Several  pious 
friends  have  told  me  that  the  woman  is  in 
sane.  I  have  tried  not  to  believe  this,  but  I  be 
lieve  so  now  ;  she  must  be  made  submissive, 
if  not  to  me,  at  least  to  the  Gospel ;  and  the 
most  influential  missionary  for  her  case  will 
be  found  in  an  asylum.  Now,  Doctor  Marks, 
as  a  member  of  our  church,  I  wish  you  to  as 
sist  me,  I  want  you  to  see  this  unfortunate 
woman  yourself.  You  will  find  her  just 
what  I  have  told  you,  and  your  certificate 
will  be  sufficient  to  place  her  where  she 
will  be  better  cared  for ;  and,"  said  he, 
with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  she  may  at  last  find  a 
minister  that  may  bring  her  to  a  sense  of  her 
duty.  This  lady,"  pointing  to  the  female  be 
fore  him,  "  is  one  of  ourselves  ;  she  belongs  to 
Mr.  Campell's  congregation,  and  has  been  a 
matron  in  a  private  asylum.  She  is  satisfied 
that  there  are  symptoms  of  insanity  ;  I  have 
asked  her  to  meet  us  here,  and  she  can  inform 
you." 

"  We  have  seldom  had  many  worse  cases/' 
she  said  ;  "  there  Is  a  peculiarity  about  this  poor 
lady  that  I  don't  know  how  to  explain ;  she  is 
no  way  violent,  but  is  all  for  argument.  Lor 
bless  you,  no  one  could  resist  divine  grace,  and 
say  that  religion  is  a  delusion,  and  have  a 
sound  mind.  She  has  done  this — and  it  is  not 
long  since  she  was  a  church  member  ;  a  sud 
den  change  like  this  ought  to  be  conclusive. 
Doctor  Marks  can  see  for  himself." 

The  lady  pronounced  these  last  words  with 
a  kind  of  self  sufficient  air,  which  she  seemed 
satisfied  ought  to  settle  the  business. 

"  I  admit,"  said  Doctor  Marks,  trying  to  look 
very  devoutly  impressed,  "  that  the  sudden 
change  of  which  you  speak,  from  piety  to  pro- 
fanity,  is  often  a  marked  symptom  of  mental 
disease.  Her  deplorable  hallucination  sei-ins 
to  be,  that  the  Bible  is  false  ;  as  to  her  partial 
insanity,  therefore,  there  can  scarcely  be  a 
doubt  ;  the  case,  however,  is  rather  singu 
lar." 

"  Yes,"  said  Doctor  Buster,  "it  has  been  gradu 
ally  coining  to  this  ;  she  first  commenced  to 
rebuke  me  for  preaching  eternal  punishment ; 


EXETER    HALL. 


66 


then  she  insisted  that  there  must  have  been 
interpolations  or  wrong  translations  ;  then  she 
disbelieved  in  scriptural  inspiration ;  and  at 
last  suddenly  became  an  open  defender  of  the 
Secularists.  Could  I  submit  to  this  ?  Could 
jxm?" 

"  Well,"  said  Doctor  Marks,  "  I  see  how  it  is. 
If  you  are  ready,  we  will  go,  and  in  a  short 
time  I  will  try  what  can  be  done  ;  as  it  is,  t 
am  inclined  to  think  that  her  mind  is  affected." 

Doctor  Buster  went  to  the  door,  and  spoke  a 
few  words  to  the  landlady,  and  in  a  little 
time  a  vehicle  from  the  back  yard  was  heard 
approaching  ;  it  was  a  cab  ;  it  stopped  at  the 
front  door,  three  persons  entered  it,  then  the 
driver  at  once  mounted  his  seat  and  drove 
quickly  away. 

"  By  the  'tarnal,  Bob,  we  came  upon  them  a 
kind  o'sleek  ;  let's  follow  that  crowd,  there's 
something1  up  We  can  keep  alongside  that 
cab  o'  his'n  better  than  trying  to  track  them 
afterward — we  can  go  it  like  a  streak." 

Robert,  however,  was  ahead  already.  On 
they  ran,  without  saying  a  word,  for  some  time. 
The  rain  had  partly  ceased,  but  heavy  blasts 
of  cold  wind  swept  along  the  deserted  streets, 
whisking  into  mist  the  pattering  drops  that  fell 
from  projecting  eaves,  threatening  rickety 
sign-boards,  and  penetrating  the  thin  wretch 
ed  covering  of  the  homeless  wanderers  who 
were  then  trying  to  find  shelter.  Wide  and 
narrow  streets  were  passed  ;  corners  were 
turned  ;  and  gloomy  looking  houses  seemed 
to  be  gliding  farther  away  into  the  darkness. 
The  night-watch  as  he  peered  from  his 
cover  might  not  have  wondered  at  the 
rattling  speed  of  the  vehicle,  but  he  no  doubt 
felt  a  degree  of  suspicion  upon  seeing  two 
persons,  one  at  each  side,  following  it  up  so 
closely,  and  running  through  street  pools 
with  the  most  reckless  indifference. 

"  Guess  they're  a  going  to  hitch  up  here," 
paid  Sam,  in  a  low,  hurried  voice  and  almost 
out  of  breath,  as  the  pace  began  to  slacken, 
and  the  horse's  head  was  directed  toward  a  ro\v 
of  gloomy  buildings  in  a  quarter  of  the  city 
that  was  not  the  best  lighted  or  most  populous. 
Near  the  centre  of  this  row  there  were  two 
houses,  older  looking,  and  nearly  a  story 
higher  than  those  on  either  side  ;  they  had 
a  deserted  appearance,  and  the  vehicle  was 
brought  to  a  full  stop  at  the  further  house. 
There  was  not  a  light  to  be  seen  ;  the  lower 
windows  were  well  secured  by  strong  shut 
ters,  while  dark,  heavy  curtains  prevented  the 
least  ray  from  being  noticed  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  building.  Three  persons  ascended  the 
stone  steps ;  a  bell  was  rung,  the  strong  front 
door  was  cautiously  opened,  and  they  quietly 
entered,  leaving  the  cab  to  remain  as  if  it  were 
to  be  shortly  required  again. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SINCE  the  rumored  departure  of  Doctor  Bus 
ter's  wife,  very  few  persons  had  ever  entered  his 
house.  It  was  a  desolate  place ;  in  the  princi 
pal  apartments,  the  furniture  was  covered, 
the  mirrors  and  pictures  were  shrouded,  and 


already  the  rich  rugs  and  carpets  were  fast 
becoming  damp.  Almost  every  thing  in  the 
other  rooms  was  bundled  up  and  stowed  away, 
as  if  for  an  atiction  sale,  while  the  kitchen 
fire,  though  not  actually  put  out,  was  merely 
kept  alive  ;  and  the  savory  odors  that  had 
often  ascended  with  appetizing  qualities  were 
now  replaced  by  less  fragrant  fumes  from  the 
homely  fare  of  the  solitary  care-taker  of  the 
premises. 

There  were  two  apartments,  however,  in 
that  lonesome  house  that  were  still  used  ;  one 
was  the  doctor's  library  and  study,  situated 
on  the  first  floor.  Though  he  visited  this 
place  every  day,  it  was  not  always  to  read,  or 
spend  an  hour  in  religious  contemplation,  but 
often  for  the  purpose  of  transacting  business, 
and  to  receive  visits  from  a  few  ministerial 
brethren  and  others,  who  were  granted  that 
privilege.  It  was  allowed  to  remain  in  a  very 
disorderly  state  ;  books  and  papers  were  lying 
about,  torn  scraps  of  writing  were  scattered 
here  and  there,  and  almost  every  thing  else 
was  totsed  and  misplaced  in  the  most  negli 
gent  manner  ;  and  there  were  times,  when,  if 
one  could  have  entered  this  retreat,  evidences 
of  the  doctor's  occasional  partiality  for  a  little 
brandy  and  tobacco  might  be  easily  detected. 

The  other  apartment  was  one  that  only  the 
doctor  and  one  or  two  other  persons  ever 
entered.  It  was  a  large  upper  room,  old  and 
dilapidated,  in  the  back  part  of  the  house  ; 
it  was  cold,  bleak,  and  dimly  lighted ;  there 
was  but  one  small  window  at  the  end,  through 
which  a  gleam  of  sunlight  never  entered,  and 
which  looked  into  a  kind  of  yard ;  and,  al 
though  this  window  vras  many  feet  from  the 
ground,  yet  it  waa  secured  on  the  outside  by 
iron  bars,  which  were  but  a  comparatively  re 
cent  precaution  against  burglars.  There  was 
scarcely  any  thing  to  be  seen  in  this  room 
save  a  few  things  requisite  for  its  solitary  oc 
cupant.  There  were  a  small  table  and  a  little 
wooden  stool,  and  a  wretched  straw  bed 
spread  out  upon  the  floor  in  a  corner.  Close 
by,  there  was  a  small  closet,  in  which  was 
hung  some  patched  and  tattered  articles  of 
clothing.  It  was  a  melancholy  place  for  one 
to  spend  long  nights  and  tedious  days  and 
dreary  months  in,  brooding  in  loneliness  and 
sorrow,  and  wishing  for  death,  like  the  poor 
forlorn  creature — the  victim  of  an  arbitrary 
priest — the  prisoner  of  religious  tyranny — who 
was  weeping  away  her  life,  recalling  the  sor 
rows  and  joys  of  the  past,  and  thinking  with 
suspicious  dread  upon  the  bleak,  bleak  future. 

She  sat  upon  the  hard  bed  in  the  black 
darkness  of  the  night,  listening  to  the  rain, 
and  to  the  wild  wind  that  ripped  up  the  loose, 
fragile  roof-slates  and  sent  them  flying  into 
the  street.  The  window  shook,  and  the  thin 
panes  trembled  as  the  cold  blast  rushed 
through  some  crack  or  crevice  into  the 
wretched  chamber.  She  sat  and  listened  to 
the  wild  commotion  of  the  night ;  and  the 
wailinar  outside  was  in  unison  with  her  own 
desponding  thoughts.  She  wrung  her  thin 
hands,  and  then  placed  them  over  her  wan  face 
that  was  once  so  fair ;  her  scanty  brown  hair 
fell  around  her  shoulders.  It  had  lost  its  rich 
luxuriance, and,  already, threads  of  silvery  hue. 
wrought  in  through  its  darker  folds  by  early 


66 


EXETER    HALL. 


grief,  could  be  traced,  to  correspond  with  the 
lines  of  care  that  were  prematurely  and  in 
delibly  marked  upon  her  brow. 

She  rose  and  knelt  upon  the  straw  pallet, 
and  raised  her  hands  imploringly  ;  she  re 
mained  in  this  position  for  awhile,  heaving 
heavy  sighs,  and  struggling  with  painful  emo 
tion,  and  then  exclaimed, "0  God  !  O  God  ! 
why  do  I  suffer  thus  ?  What  is  to  become  of 
my  poor  children  ?  What  is  to  become  of  me  ? 
I  can  not  exist  here  much  longer.  Am  I 
never  to  see  them  again  ?  O  dear,  dear, 
dear,  the  dreary  winter  I  have  spent !  How  I 
wish  my  sorrow  was  buried  forever  in  the  cold 
grave !"  And  then,  ae  she  felt  some  sudden 
pang,  she  pressed  her  hands  over  her  flutter 
ing  heart,  and  said,  "  I  wish  it  would  break — 
it  will,  it  will,  but  not  till  I  see  them  again  ; 
let  it  not  be  until  then.  O  my  poor  chil 
dren  !" 

Once  more  she  listened,  as  if  waiting  for 
some  friendly  voice  of  sympathy  to  whisper 
hope ;  as  if  looking  up  for  some  kind  hand  to 
lift  her  from  out  the  dark,  angry  waves  in 
which  she  was  struggling.  The  hot  tears 
chased  each  other  fast  and  faster  down  her 
fevered  cheeks,  the  storm-wind  still  reveled 
in  the  dark  night,  and  its  wild  and  swelling 
wail  was  the  only  response  to  the  poor  suffer 
er.  Yet,  strange  to  say,  she  paused  to  hear 
the  melancholy  sounds  more  distinctly  ;  even 
at  that  lonely  hour  there  was  something  sooth 
ing  in  them,  something  which  kept  her  a 
moment  from  thinking  of  her  own  grief.  She 
was  not  afraid  ;  those  spirit-like  wails  show 
ered  down  no  heavy  curses  upon  her  defense 
less  head,  like  the  dreadful  mutterings  of  that 
other  voice  which  she  too  often  had  heard  in 
that  very  room. 

While  thus  pitifully  waiting — waiting  for 
something — for  any  thing — for  the  merest 
symptom  of  day-dawn  to  her  long  night  of 
trouble — for  the  faintest  ray  of  light,  or  hope, 
to  cheer  away  any  of  the  dreadful  gloom  that 
was  around  her  like  a  thick,  dark  shroud,  she 
was  startled  by  a  low  rap  at  the  door.  She  held 
her  breath,  her  ears  might  have  deceived  her, 
she  heard  the  rap  again,  but  louder ;  there 
was  a  pause,  and  then  a  voice  said : 

"  Are  you  awake,  madam  ?" 

"  Yea." 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Pinkley.  I  have  a  message  for 
you  ;  a  person  wishes  to  see  you,  if  you  will 
please  to  arise  and  dress  ;  I  will  bring  a  light 
and  the  key." 

"  I  will,  yes,  certainly  ;  I  will  be  ready  in  a 
moment." 

The  sight  of  any  human  being,  save  one, 
would  now  be  a  welcome  intrusion  ;  neither 
the  lateness  of  the  hour,  nor  the  unusual  time 
for  such  a  call,  made  any  difference  ;  she 
•would  see  one  of  her  own  sex ;  she  was 
yearning  to  hear  a  woman  speak  to  her  then, 
no  matter  if  even  indifferent  to  her  sufferings. 

She  had  scarcely  time  to  hurry  on  a  few 
things  before  she  heard  the  woman's  step,  and 
saw  a  light  stream  in  through  the  key-hole. 
The  door  was  opened,  and  Mrs.  Pinkley  en 
tered  ;  she  had  been  there  several  times  be 
fore,  and  consequently  was  not  like  an  entire 
stranger.  Though  looked  upon  with  suspicion, 
and  many  of  the  ungodly  and  uncharitable 


•were  of  opinion  that  her  intimacy  and  devoted 
ness  in  connection  with  the  pious  and  cir 
cumspt-ct  Doctor  Buster  was  not  exactly  in 
accordance  with  strict  Presbyterian  rule,  she 
was,  however,  one  of  the  flock,  a  steady 
church  member,  and  in  the  eye  of  many  of 
the  elect  this  was  sufficient  to  cover  a  multi 
tude  of  sins. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,"  she  said, 
placing  the  small  lamp  upon  the  table,  and 
leisurely  taking  off  her  bonnet.  "  I  know  it 
is  rather  late ;  but  I  will  assist  you  to  dress, 
and  to  put  things  in  a  little  order.  A  gentle 
man  below  wishes  to  speak  to  you.  O  my  ! 
don't  start — it  is  not  your  husband,  although 
he  will  be  here  also  ;  the  person  I  mtan  is  his 
friend,  and — " 

"  Alas  !   may  be  my  enemy." 

"  Oh  !  not  an  enemy,  by  no  means ;  he  is  a 
friend  ;  yes,  he  comes  at  the  request  of  your 
husband.  I  think  they  wish  to  remove  you 
from  this  dull  place,"  eaid  she,  bowing  and 
smiling  ;  "  the  change  you  will  find  much 
better — don't  you  think  so?  Indeed,"  said 
she,  looking  around  her,  "this  place  is  not  fit 
for  you — not  at  all." 

The  poor  woman  shuddered  when  she 
heard  this,  at  least  when  she  heard  that  her 
husband  was  coming.  He  never  entered  but  to 
threaten  and  reproach  ;  but  then,  thought  she, 
he  will  not  be  alone,  he  will  not  surely  curse 
or  try  to  terrify  me  before  others.  Still  she 
trembled  ;  and  then  suddenly,  as  if  thinking 
of  her  great  wrongs,  she  looked  up  defiantly, 
and  said : 

"  Let  him  come  !  he  can  do  little  more  than 
he  has  done  already  ;  perhaps  the  sooner  he 
strikes  the  final  blow  the  better." 

"  O  my  1  madam,  don't  talk  so !  He  won't 
injure  you,  no  indeed."  Yet  Mrs.  Pinkley 
was  no  way  disconcerted ;  she  smiled,  and  was 
very  complaisant.  She  was  a  tall  woman, 
slight  but  well  proportioned  ;  she  had  dark 
hair,  a  red  face ;  there  was  something  hard 
and  repulsive  in  her  cold  gray,  wandering 
eye,  and  her  mouth  was  decidedly  sensual. 
She  had  quite  a  professional  address,  and,  as 
she  moved  about,the  touch  of  her  cold,  delicate 
hand  now  made  the  poor  victim  before  her 
shrink,  as  she  would  from  the  smooth,  chilly 
contact  of  a  reptile,  or  as  if  she  had  felt  the 
hand  of  an  executioner. 

"  I  think,  madam,  we  will  do  now" — she 
made  a  slight  survey — "  yes,  we're  ready,''  said 
she,  bowing,  and  gracefully  backing  toward 
the  door  ;  "  I  will  just  hint  that  we  can  see 
them."  And  placing  her  soft  whi*e  hand  to 
the  side  of  her  mouth,  she  gave  a  peculiar 
cough,  twice  or  thrice,  and  presently  she 
ushered  in  the  two  gentlemen  with  the 
stately  ceremony  of  a  duchess. 

Doctor  Buster  entered  first,  with  a  heavy, 
formidable  stride,  and,  despite  of  her  resolu 
tion,  his  enfeebled  wife  became  nervous  when 
she  saw  his  malicious  frown,  and  she  turned 
her  eyes  away  from  the  unfeeling  determina 
tion  that  was  concentrated  in  his  gaze. 
Doctor  Marks,  who  was  the  other  person, 
advanced  toward  her  with  the  easy  address 
of  a  gentleman,  and  very  politely  said  how 
much  he  regretted  to  be  obliged  to  make  a 
call  at  so  unseasonable  an  hour.  "  In  fact," 


EXETER    HALL. 


67 


he  said,  "  lie  was  about  to  leave  town,  and  her 
husband,  who  was  anxious  about  the  state  of 
her  health,  requested  him  to  pay  her  a  visit  at 
once."  His  manner  was  very  insinuating, 
and  his  soft  words  seemed  as  harmless  as  the 
prattle  of  an  infant. 

She  heard  these  words ;  they  might  have 
given  her  confidence,  but  she  heeded  not 
the  speaker.  She  became  at  once  self-possessed, 
and  quietly  folding  her  arms,  sent  a  steady 
look  of  scorn  upon  the  scowling  countenance 
before  her.  She  seemed  for  the  moment  be 
reft  of  all  fear  or  dread  whatever,  and  totally 
indifferent  as  to  personal  results. 

"  My  husband — my  health — did  you  say  ? 
Ha !  ha !  my  husband  !  Yes,  this  is  what  an 
arbitrary,  unjust  law  may  call  him;  this  is 
what  our  social  barbarous  conventionalism 
may  designate  him — but  to  me,  what  is  he  ? 
I  know  him  to  be  my  unfeeling  tyrant,  and 
persecutor,  and  he  may  yet  be  my  murderer. 
My  health '!  Here  is  a  proof  of  his  anxiety 
for  my  condition,"  said  she,  spreading  out 
her  hands,  as  if  directing  their  observation  to 
the  room  ;  and  then  she  drew  up  her  sleeve 
and  exhibited  her  attenuated  arm.  "  Here  I 
have  been  the  victim  of  his  intolerance,  and 
in  this  place  I  have  had  terrible  proof  of  his 
pious  attention  and  care  for  nearly  a  year. 
While  he  has  been  preaching  like  an  apostle, 
and  praying  for  the  souls  of  others,  almost 
unknosvn  to  the  world  he  tas  been  heartless 
ly  persecuting  my  frail  body  in  this  prison. 
My  health !  What  a  mockery  !  Did  he  care  for 
my  health  when  he  robbed  me  of  my  children, 
and  thrust  me  into  this  place  ?  I  have  been 
treated  like  a  criminal,  and  debarred  liberty  ; 
he  now  seeks  to  deprive  me  of  my  senses, 
and  it  may  be  that  he  will  yet  take  away  my 
very  life." 

She  directed  these  last  words  with  such 
deliberation  that  they  went  stinging  around 
the  reverend  doctor's  ears  like  the  touch  of 
scorpions,  and  his  Christian  restraint  became 
so  impotent,  that  were  it  not  for  his  own 
actual  safety  he  would  have  annihilated  her 
with  one  mighty  blow. 

"  Yes,  strike,"  said  she,  "  I  too  well  know 
the  brutal  fury  of  your  passion ;  but  I  fear  you 
not — what  do  I  care  for  life  ?  But  even  while 
it  lasts — while  I  can  still  speak,  I  will  tell 
some  one  of  your  infamy  ;  I  have  been  silent 
too  long.  If  I  can  tell  no  others,  these  people 
shall  hear  of  it.  I  will  place  you  in  their 
power — they  may  be  yet  witnesses  against 
you." 

Mrs.  Pinkley  here  became  very  much  affect 
ed  ;  she  was  actually  shocked  ;  she  found 
some  relief,  however,  in  a  pious  ejaculation, 
and  muttered  some  inanity  about  falling  from 
grac<;. 

"  Pray,  madam,"  said  Doctor  Marks,  "  do 
not  allow  yourself  to  become  so  excited  ;  your 
husband  is  anxious  about  you,  and  we  are  here 
to  serve  you,  if  possible." 

"  That  is  easily  done.  If  he  is  anxious  about 
me,  let  him  give  me  my  children  and  my 
liberty  ;  let  him  cast  me  out  upon  the  world 
from  this  very  place,  and  I  shall  need  no  other 
physician.  If  you  wish  to  serve  me,  if  you 
are  here  as  friends,  then,"  said  she,  lowering 
her  voice  to  tenderness,  "  plead  with  him  for 


me — plead  with  him,  kind  friends ;  let  him 
restore  me  to  my  little  ones,  and  I  will  never 
trouble  him  more.  I  will  go  away,  far  away, 
where  my  name  shall  never  bring  him  a  re 
proach."  She  fell  on  her  knees,  and  seized  the 
hands  of  Doctor  Marks,  and  looked  up  to  his 
face  most  appealingly  through  her  tears. 
"  Oh  !  do,  good  sir,  pity  me  ;  will  you  be  my 
friend  ?  I  am  an  afflicted  woman  who  has  been 
sorely  tried ;  be  my  friend,  lead  me  to  my 
children,  and  the  sea  shall  divide  me  from  that 
man,  and  its  trackless  mountains  shall  remain 
between  us  forever." 

Doctor  Marks  had  a  heart,  it  was  touched 
by  this  natural  appeal,  he  felt  embarrassed, 
and  he  gently  raised  the  weeping  woman,  and 
made  her  sit  on  the  low  stool ;  while  Mrs. 
Piukley  affected  to  require  an  application  of 
her  handkerchief,  to  keep  back  tears  which 
were  yet  frozen. 

"  Woman,"  said  Doctor  Buster,  trying  to 
suppress  his  rage,  "  woman,  be  silent,  if  you 
have  any  reason  left.  You  shall  never  utter 
blasphemies  in  your  children's  ears ;  they 
would  only  live  to  curse  you  for  blighting 
their  hopes  of  eternity." 

"  Reason !  That  is  what  you  have  always 
denounced ;  it  is  because  you  have  despised 
that  noble  faculty  that  I  am  here  now. 
"  Friends,"  said  she,  addressing  the  other 
persons,  "  were  it  not  for  reason,  I  might  have 
been,  as  he  is,  a  shining  light  in  the  church.  I 
might  have  still  been  a  believer  in  that  inspir 
ed  revelation  that  has  made  him  so  chaste,  so 
forgiving,  and  so  exemplary.  I  might  have 
remained  a  priestly  instrument  to  disseminate 
what  I  now  believe  to  be  error.  My  reason  re 
belled  against  a  doctrine  that  would  depict  a 
divine  Being  to  be  as  cold,  as  heartless,  and  aa 
revengeful  as  that  man  before  you.  I  could 
not  believe  in  the  eternal  punishment  which 
he  preached,  and  which  he  would  relentlessly 
practice  upon  me." 

"Wretch !  what  mercy  can  you  expect  either 
from  God  or  man  after  uttering  such  impious 
sentiments  ?  you  shall  have  none  from  me ! 
If  your  boasted  reason  has  led  you  to  this  state 
of  degradation,  if  it  has  led  you  to  trample 
upon  Christian  truth,  'then,  by  Heavens  !  it 
must  lead  you  out  of  this  to  a  place  where  it 
may  be  better  cultivated.  I  will  not  foul  my 
hands  any  longer  with  your  leprous  carcass  ; 
prepare  and  leave  this  house,  and  may  your 
days  be  spent  in  weeping,  and  your  nights  be 
as  woeful  as  the  terrors  of  the  damned  !"  As 
he  said  this,  the  shadow  of  his  raised  fist  could 
be  seen  like  a  death's  head  on  the  opposite 
wall. 

Doctor  Marks  stood  almost  appalled  when 
he  heard  these  imprecations  ;  Doctor  Buster's 
face  was  livid  with  rage  ;  he  looked  more  like 
a  ferocious  maniac  than  a  human  being,  and 
at  the  moment  he  was  more  fitted  to  become 
the  shackled  inmate  of  a  mad-house  than  the 
awe-struck  woman  whom  he  denounced.  Even 
Mrs.  Pinkiey,  trained  and  accustomed  as  she 
hid  been  to  scenes  of  uproar  and  confusion  in 
such  places,  became  fearful.  She  could  feel 
collected  and  indifferent  when  she  heard  the 
ravings  of  a  disordered  intellect  in  an  asylum 
but  she  could  not  witness  this  wild  ungovern 
able  fury  of  a  sane  man,  and  he  too  one  of  the 


68 


EXETER  HALL. 


called  and  ordained  preachers  of  the  Gospel, 
without  a  shudder.  Yet  she  could  excuse 
this  excess  of  zeal  on  the  part  of  the  modera 
tor.  The  determined  contumacy  of  a  self-opini 
onated  woman  was  very  provoking  ;  he  was 
a  preacher  of  truth,  and  Mrs.  Pinkley,  as  long 
as  God  spared  her,  would  be  always  an  hum 
ble  upholder  of  that  principle. 

She  followed  the  reverend  doctor  from  the 
room.  She  no  doubt  thought  it  her  duty  to  try 
and  soothe  away  his  anguish;  his  passion  was 
too  great  to  allow  him  to  remain  with  safety 
in  the  presence  of  her  whom  he  detested.  His 
anger  might  have  led  him  to  commit  some 
act  of  violence  which  would  cause  publicity, 
and  this  he  dreaded  more  than  any  other 
result.  Doctor  Marks  felt  relieved  when  he 
saw  him  leave  the  wretched  chamber  and  its 
helpless  inmate  ;  she,  poor  unfortunate  !  was 
weeping,  and  her  pitiful  sobs  were  an  irresisti 
ble  appeal  to  his  better  nature.  He  was,  how 
ever,  strictly  orthodox,  and  was  ready  to  doubt 
the  sanity  of  any  person  who  professed  to  disbe 
lieve  even  the  most  mythical  story  of  the  Bible, 
but  he  could  not  persecute.  The  insight  he  had 
just  obtained  of  the  moderator's  character  and 
motives  did  not  exalt  the  latter  in  his  estima 
tion,  and  as  he  had  been  requested  to  come 
there  for  a  professional  purpose  he  now  prompt 
ly  decided  how  it  was  best  to  act  under  the 
circumstances. 

Mrs.  Pinkley's  returning  steps  could  be 
heard  ;  there  was  not  a  moment  to  spare. — He 
hurriedly  whispered,  "  Leave  this  place,  sub 
mit  for  the  present,  and  I  will  see  what  can 
be  done  for  you." 

It  was  long  past  midnight  when  the  cab 
drove  quickly  away  with  Mrs.  Pinkley,  and 
the  doctor's  wife,  and  a  coarse-looking  man, 
in  whose  pockets  something  like  keys,  or 
handcuffs  rattled  as  he  entered  the  vehicle. 
In  a  short  time  afterward,  Doctor  Marks  and 
the  moderator  left  the  desolate  house.  They 
were  seen  by  Robert  and  Sam,  making  their 
way  along  the  dark  splashy  streets  through 
the  wind  and  rain,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling 
of  disappointment  that  these  watchers  had  to 
retire  for  the  night  without  being  able  to  do 
more  then  than  avow  tlieir  determination  to 
make  a  discovery  as  soon  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  red  lion  which  hung  outside  the 
tavern  bearing  that  name  could  scarcely  be 
seen  next  morning  through  the  heavy  fog 
which  enveloped  every  object.  Masts  on  the 
Thames,  huge  buildings,  royal  and  episcopal 

Ealaces,  and  ambitious  steeples  were  but  dim- 
/  visible,  and  pedestrians  as  they  hurried  on 
occasionally  jostled  each  other  in  a  very  uncere 
monious  manner.  The  red  lion,  crowned  and 
rampant  as  he  looked  in  the  bright  sunshine, 
now  appeared  rather  subdued  ;  and  the  large 
drops  which  accumulated  on  his  bronzed  sides 
fell  with  pattering  sound  on  the  pavement, 
being  occasionally  intercepted  by  the  heads, 
great  and  small,  of  early  street  plodders.  The 
good-natured  landlord  sat  smoking  a  long  clay 
pipe  near  the  tap-room  door,  and  as  he  now 


and  then  looked  up  with  pride  at  the  dripping 
representative  of  his  house,  he  had  often  to 
smile  at  the  manner  in  which  the  said  lion 
administered  spiritless  drops,  so  different  from 
the  more  reviving  ones  contained  in  the  circle 
of  bellied  and  painted  kegs  which  stood  around 
him,  like  sturdy  little  bacchanalians  awaiting 
his  orders. 

The  Red  Lion  tavern  was  one  of  the  oldest 
established  places  of  its  kind  in  London.  Gen 
eration  after  generation  had  crossed  its  thresh 
old,  stood  on  its  sanded  floor,  and  had  par 
taken  of  the  generous  cheer  for  which  it  was 
famed.  Even  up  to  this  period,  it  had  kept 
pace  with  the  times,  and  its  good  ale  aud 
tender  loins  could  not  be  surpassed  within  the 
bounds  of  that  old  city.  It  was  a  peculiar  re 
sort  ;  although  generally  frequented  by  the 
middle,  or  rather  by  the  intelligent  trading 
and  working  classes,  yet  authors,  professors, 
and  occasionally  a  stray  waif  of  nobility,  might 
be  seen  to  enter.  For  the  traditions  of  the 
house  had  it,  that  more  than  once,  at  irregular 
intervals  of  relaxation  or  revelry,  the  highest 
in  the  land  drank  in  its  cozy  parlor,  and 
looked  on  the  Thames  through  the  diamond 
panes  of  its  great  bay  window.  And  good  John 
Hollis,  the  present  landlord,  would  point  with 
pride  to  the  stout  arm-chair  which  held  the 
last  scion  of  royalty  that  honored  his  house ; 
and  it  would  be  a  favor  indeed,  were  you  per 
mitted  to  drink  out  of  the  "  King's  cup,"  a  cut 
and  flowered  glass  tumbler,  which  more  than 
once  had  touched  the  lips  of  a  certain  Prince 
Regent,  who  had  afterward  become  "  The 
Lord's  anointed  "  as  "  George  the  Fourth." 

To  a  person  of  leisure,  who  wished  to  hear 
the  news  of  the  day,  or  make  short  excursions 
through  the  city  from  a  central  point,  the  Red 
Lion  was  the  spot.  Not  only  was  it  well  sup 
plied  with  city  and  provincial  papers,  but  it 
could  boas'  of  an  excellent  library,  which  was 
enlarged  from  time  to  time  by  gifts  of  rare  and 
scientific  books  from  its  generous  patrons.  And 
works  treating  on  the  merits  of  the  state 
church,  and  popular  theology,  which  were  pro 
scribed  from  the  shelves  of  respectable  Chris 
tian  booksellers,  could  here  be  found  to  satisfy 
the  curious,  stimulate  investigation,  and  ex 
pose  pretension.  Adjoining  the  library  was  a 
large  room  in  which  guests  could  meet ;  and 
friendly  discussion,  mostly  on  politics  and  reli 
gion,  might  be  often  heard  from  an  early  hour 
in  the  aiternoon  until  late  at  night. 

Close  to  a  front  window  in  that  room, 
and  looking  demurely  into  the  fog  that  half 
hid  the  rampant  lion,  sat  Samuel  Styles ; 
he  was  thinking  of  the  events  of  the  past 
night,  and  seemed  in  momentary  doubt  and 
confusion  as  to  the  reality  of  the  dreary  in 
cidents  of  that  period.  And  though  he  knew 
but  little  as  yet  either  of  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  what  he  had  heard  Dr.  Buster  relate  concern 
ing  his  wife,  still  he  was  strongly  suspicious 
that  all  was  not  right.  From  the  moment  he 
laid  eyes  on  the  reverend  doctor,  he  took  an 
instinctive  dislike  to  him  ;  ho  had  not  yet  seen 
Mr.  Mannors,  whom  Robert  held  in  such 
esteem  ;  but  he  heard  him  alluded  to  as  being 
an  "  infamous  character,"  and  he  had  also 
heard  Dr.  Buster  attribute  insanity  to  his  own 
wife,  on  account  of  her  religious  opinions,  and 


EXETER    HALL. 


69 


threaten  her  with  an  asylum.  And  now,  as  lie 
believed  that  threat  had  been  carried  into 
effect,  it  forcibly  reminded  him  of  a  similar  case 
of  persecution  that  had  lately  been  exposed  in 
his  own  country.*  He  felt  a  glow  of  indigna 
tion,  and  as  he  was  an  ardent  lover  of  fair 
play,  and  had  time  and  means  at  his  disposal, 
he  determined  to  see  j  ustice  done,  and  if  pos 
sible  rescue  an  oppressed  woman  from  the 
clutches  of  an  unfeeling  priest  and  sanctimo 
nious  tyrant.  He  made  up  his  mind  that 
when  Robert  called  that  day,  to  go  with  him 
to  Mr.  Mannors,  and  reveal  all  to  him ;  then, 
after  a  sudden  thought,  he  snatched  at  his 
pocket  and  drew  from  it  the  paper  which  fell 
from  the  hands  of  the  reverend  moderator 
under  the  archway,  and  which  Robert  had 
picked  up. 

Samuel  Styles,  or  rather  as  he  chose  to  call 
himself  "  Sam  Styles,"  was  an  enthusiastic  na 
tive  American,  as  proud  of  his  country  and  of 
the  "  glorious  S'ars  and  Stripes,"  as  ever  Briton 
was  of  the  Red  Cross  or  Union  Jack.  He  was, 
according  to  his  own  account,  "  raised"  on  a 
farm  in  Pennsylvania,  and  having  lost  his 
parents  at  an  early  age,  entered  a  printing- 
office  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  remained  for 
two  or  three  years.  He  was  very  sober  and 
industrious  ;  and  during  one  of  the  great  reli 
gious  excitements  which  periodically  occur  in 
that  city  of  gospel  palaces  and  celestial  ambas 
sadors,  he  g<  it  converted  and  joined  the  church, 
and  being  esteemed  for  his  sincerity  and  zeal, 
was  appointed  a  tract  distributor  ;  his  district 
in  the  city  being  varied  occasionally  from  the 
streets  known  as — 

"  Chestnut,  Walnut,  Spruce,  and  Pine, 

to 
Mulberry,  Cherry,  Race,  and  Vine." 

Having  proved  faithful  in  this  respect,  he 
was  afterward  called  upon  by  a  wealthy 
evangelical  society  to  fill  the  more  important 
position  of  colporteur,  at  a  fair  salary,  and  sent 
to  dispose  of  Bibles,  and  Testaments,  and  to 
circulate  other  religious  books  in  the  country. 
In  this  capacity,  he  visited  several  places  and 
studied  the  effects  of  religion  upon  the  minds 
of  different  classes,  from  the  slow  "  aborigines  " 
of  Cape  May  to  the  more  enterprising  and 
intelligent  natives  of  Pennsylvania  and  New- 
York.  And  whether  it  was  that  he  became 
dissatisfied  with  his  own  efforts,  or  that  the 
general  ideas  of  those  most  wedded  ro  the 
Gospel  were  not  sufficiently  liberal  and  pro 
gressive,  he  grew  discontented  with  his  voca 
tion  and  resigned.  And  while  he  left  Moses 
and  the  prophets  to  grope  their  way  among 
the  unregcnerate  as  best  they  could,  he,  being 
fond  of  adventure,  commenced  business  "  on 
his  own  hook,"  and  traveled  with  horse  and 
wagon  from  Sfata  to  State,  as  the  vender  of 
small  wares  and  fancy  articles.  After  a  time 
he  became  a  doubter  in  matters  of  faith  ;  he 
was  surprised  to  find,  that  wherever  he 
traveled,  t.  large  majority  of  the  most  intel 
ligent  persons  were  skeptics  or  downright 
unbelievers,  and  having  found  a  great  demand 
for  those  liberal  books  so  regularly  denounced 
from  the  pulpit,  and  so  formally  condemned  by 
certain  leaders  of  the  press,  he  added  them  to 

*Mrs.  Packard's,  of  Illinois. 


his  stock,  and  became  an  active  agent  for  the 
circulation  of  secular  and  spiritual  journals. 
For  so  doing,  he  met  with  many  reproofs, 
received  some  insults,  and  was  more  than  once 
threatened  by  respectable  church-members 
with  personal  injury.  But  Samuel  Styles  was 
not  the  man  to  be  intimidated,  and  while 
governed  by  his  own  free  thoughts,  he  would 
come  to  no  decision  on  any  question  of  impor 
tance  until  he  had  heard  both  sides ;  and  now 
being  as  strong  in  his  opposition  to  the  popu 
lar  faith  as  he  was  truly  sincere  while  a  be 
liever,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  try  and  counter 
act  that  which  he  had  once  striven  to  propa 
gate.  Like  most  of  his  countrymen,  he  was  a 
great  reader  ;  but  not  of  the  trashy,  sixpenny 
literature— as  greedily  devoured  in  the  United 
States  as  pea-nuts  or  painted  candy ;  he  was 
well  informed  on  general  subjects,  great  on 
statistics,  and  in  argument  was  prepared  to 
defend  his  position  with  obstinacy.  When 
asked  for  the  cause  of  his  apostasy,  he  would 
state  that  the  prevailing  cupidity  of  Gospel 
ministers,  who  claimed  and  received  exorbi 
tant  salaries,  was  the  first  matter  which  caused 
him  to  reflect.  While  a  boy,  forced  like 
others  to  attend  a  Sunday-school,  and  wearied 
with  the  endless  routine  of  texts  and  cate 
chism,  hymns  and  prayers,  none  of  which  he 
could  truly  understand,  a  minister  would  at 
tend  at  stated  periods,  and  after  having  given  a 
lecture,  would  make  the  application  result  in 
forcing  the  boys  to  give,  as  a  voluntary  con 
tribution,  the  few  pence  they  might  have 
accumulated  as  pocket-money.*  Thus  after 
he  had  grown  up  and  joined  the  church,  he 
found  one  great  systematic  method  for  collec 
tion.  Cash  was  required  for  the  minister's 
fund,  for  a  church  fund,  for  a  building  fund, 
for  a  missionary  fund,  and  for  a  superannuat 
ed  fund.  There  was  a  fund  for  Bibles,  and  a 
fund  for  tracts,  a  fund  for  special  matters,  and 
one  for  general  purposes  ;  and  it  seemed  to 
him  like  one  concerted  shout  from  pulpit  and 
platform,  of  "  give,  give,  give,  eternally  give." 
And  the  rich  gave  of  their  wealth,  and  the 
poor  of  their  poverty  ;  and  still  the  reverend 
pensioners  cried  for  more,  until  they  made 
Christianity,  in  this  respect,  the  most  oppres 
sive  and  expensive  system  in  the  world. 

Then  in  the  churches  were  held  tea-meet 
ings  and  soirees,  fairs  and  festivals,  pious  lot- 

*  In  general,  children  are  very  reluctant  to  attend 
Sunday-schools,  and  still  more  so  to  give  up  thc>ir 
scanty  supply  of  pocket-money  ;  but  by  the  peculiar 
pressure  of  the  "  voluntary  "  system,  the  money  is 
obtained,  as  may  be  Inferred  from  the  following  para 
graph  taken  from  a  Philadelphia  paper  of  Sept.  26, 
1866: 

"A  MISSIONARY  VESSEL.— On  Saturday  last,  at  Bos- 
ton,  a  vessel  called  the  Morning  Star  was  launched 
in  the  presence  of  5000  spectators.  She  cost  f  20.000, 
and  was  paid  for  entirely  from  the  contribution!  of 
Sunday-school  children  in  about  2:XK)  Sunday-schools 
in  different  parts  of  the  world.  Tins  vessel  is  to  be 
fitted  out  by  the  Missionary  Hoard  at  Honolulu  in  tha 
Sandwich  Islands,  und  is  to  be  engaged  wholly  iu 
missionary  work." 

Who  can  believe  that  "Sunday-school  children"  ever 
deliberately  planned  this  unwise  expenditure  in  their 
anxiety  for  the  conversion  of  Honolulu  heathen? 
This  priestly  scheme  produced  the  desired  excitement, 
however;  five  thousand  witnessed  the  display— this 
waste  for  Honolulu  ;  while  the  priests  have  good  rea 
son  to  believe  that,  in  the  winter,  necessity  may  drive 
more  than  five  thousand  of  the  Boston  poor  shivering 
to  their  hard  beds.— AUTHOB. 


70 


EXETER   HALL. 


teries  and  religious  revels,  in  which  fashion 
and  flirtation  had  full  sway  ;  where  minis 
terial  potentates,  who  lorded  it  over  the  reason 
and  consciences  of  their  adherents,  were  noted 
for  making  a  peculiar  distinction  between 
those  who  had  much  to  give  and  those  who 
had  not ;  and  where  the  priest,  who  formally 
preached  humility  and  the  vanity  of  wealth, 
was  too  often  worshiped  as  the  god  of  the 
temple,  ever  ready  to  receive  the  rich  gifts  of 
his  votaries.  Samuel  Styles  saw  these  things, 
and  found  that  Christianity  instead  of  being, 
as  it  strangely  claimed  to  be,  a  despised  thing, 
was  in  fact  a  haughty  power,  pampered  by 
rulers,  and  regal  in  wealth  ;  an  authority  that 
could  exalt,  or  depose,  or  persecute. 

But  what  of  the  Bible,  once  the  idol  of  his 
soul,  the  centre  of  his  hopes  and  aspirations, 
revered  and  worshiped  by  millions  trained 
to  its  belief  ?  A  book,  or  collection,  by  whom 
written,  or  when,  or  where,  none  could  deter 
mine  ;  teeming  with  contradictions  and  absur 
dities  ;  in  conflict  with  science,  reason,  and 
humanity ;  a  fearful  record  of  crime,  lust,  and 
brutality ;  depicting  a  divine  Being  as  govern 
ed  by  the  basest  of  human  passions,  full  of 
wrath,  and  hurling  destruction  on  the  fallible 
beings  whom  he  had  created.  A  horde  of 
sects  professed  to  be  guided  by  its  maxims, 
and  these  have  been  notably  exhibited  in 
mutual  persecution ;  and,  like  the  Bible,  al 
most  every  page  of  their  acts  and  records  is 
sprinkled  with  blood. 

These  discoveries  were  painful,  and  sugges 
tive  of  deep  reflection  ;  then  followed  a  strict 
investigation,  and,  like  many  others  who  have 
yielded  reluctantly  to  conviction,  Samuel 
Styles  at  last  became  an  unbeliever. 

After  a  time,  and,  contrary  to  the  predictions 
of  many  of  the  faithful,  his  circumstances  be 
came  much  improved.  He  had  a  genius,  for 
invention,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  patent 
for  two  or  three  very  dissimilar  articles,  the 
sale  of  which  placed  him  in  a  good  position. 
By  his  straightforward  intercourse  among  the 
people,  he  earned  a  good  reputation  ;  and 
though  many  doubted  his  orthodoxy,  yet  no 
one  doubted  his  word.  He  was  intelligent, 
humorous,  and  communicative,  and  in  his  fre 
quent  sojournings  was  a  welcome  visitor  to 
many  a  rural  homestead.  And  it  often  hap 
pened  that  while  trading  among  settlers  in 
the  far  West,  he  was  entertained  at  the  same 
board  with  the  traveling  preacher,  whom  he 
generally  managed  to  draw  into  a  friendly 
discussion — thus,  as  he  said,  "casting  his  bread 
upon  the  waters."  When  the  rebellion  broke 
out,  he  joined  the  Union  army,  was  wounded 
at  Manassas,  and  after  having  remained  in 
hospital  for  a  long  period,  his  health  being 
much  impaired,  was  honorably  discharged. 

For  his  restoration,  he  decided  to  risk  a  sea- 
voyage.  In  his  younger  days,  on  the  "  glori 
ous  Fourth  of  July"  he  had  heard  declama 
tory  orations  against  Britain,  but  he  could  re 
sist  prejudice;  he  knew  that  she  was  a  mo 
ther  of  nations,  the  parent  of  his  own,  and  the 
progenitor  of  European  liberty.  And  though, 
as  a  republican,  he  believed  that  that  great 
country  was  terribly  blighted  by  its  royal 
government  and  state  church,  yet  he  sympa 
thized  with  the  pluck  and  free  spirit  of  its 


common  people — the  true  nobility  of  the  land 
After  due  preparation,  he  left  New  York  for 
"  the  birthplace  of  his  grandfather ; "  and 
the  only  relation  he  as  yet  found  was  Robert, 
his  cousin. 

Samuel  still  stood  at  the  window  of  the 
Red  Lion  tavern  looking  intently  at  the  paper 
he  had  drawn  from  his  pocket,  and  as  he  gazed 
at  the  cramped  words,  they  seemed  to  move 
about  and  arrange  themselves  into  curious, 
forms.  He  saw  the  fierce  features  of  Doctor 
Buster,  then  the  outline  of  a  pleading  woman, 
then  again  they  changed  to  the  shape  of  a 
heavy-barred  window  ;  and  while  trying  to 
peer  into  the  darkness  of  a  cell,  and  just  as  he 
imagined  he  could  discern  some  dim,  wither 
ing  form  in  its  depths,  the  words  resumed 
their  places,  and  he  again  read  "  A.  M.  North 
street,  near  Jewish  cemetery." 

"  Darn  me  if  that  an't  strange  ;  if  my  eyes 
were  spirit  mediums,  they  could  not  have 
changed  that  writing  better  ;  all  there  !  bars 
and  bolts  and  Doctor  Buster  to  boot."  He 
turned  the  paper,  looked  at  both  sides,  then 
held  it  from  him,  and  then  aside,  as  if  it  were 
a  veil  or  screen  which  hid  some  object  from 
his  view.  "  Yes,  these  are  the  words,  words 
that  may  give  me  a  clew.  I'll  try  and  un 
ravel  them,  and  if  I  have  to  hover  about  the 
Jewish  cemetery  as  a  medium  or  resurrection 
ist,  I  may  disentomb  some  critter  either  dead 
or  alive.  I'll  try  hard,  and  if  the  great  doctor 
feels  spiritually  inclined,  and  calls  upon  me,  I'll 
answer  that  call  with  such  a  rap  as  will  make 
him  feel  like  being  in  the  very  centre  and  em 
brace  of  a  corkscrew  thunderbolt." 

Having  thus  soliloquized,  and  while  leisure 
ly  folding  the  paper,  his  attention  was  called 
by  shouts  and  hooting  almost  immediately 
across  the  street.  He  could  j  ust  distinguish 
a  number  of  persons  outside  a  shop  door ;  a 
carter  was  unloading  some  pieces  of  furniture, 
and  two  or  three  persons  in  official  costume, 
like  policemen,  were  superintending  the  de 
livery.  A  motley  gathering  stood  around,  and 
as  piece  after  piece  was  shoved  into  the  build 
ing,  the  jabbering  crowd  gave  a  shout,  and  one 
voice  louder  than  the  rest  cried  out, 

'  Och  !  success  to  the  'stablishmint,  divil  a 
scrimmage  we'd  have  on  the  ould  sod  at  all 
at  all  widout  it ;  sure,  it  keeps  the  boys  busy  ; 
and  the  parsons,  and  peelers,  and  hangmen 
makes  a  fine  livin  out  of  it."  Then  there  was 
a  loud  laugh,  another  shout,  and  the  pestered 
officials,  who  really  appeared  ashamed  of  their 
work,  made  a  show  of  threats.  Then  the  voice 
cried  again, 

"  Arrah  !  that's  right,  make  the  haythins  be- 
liave  themselves,  keep  away  wid  ye,  sell  'em 
nit  bed  and  blanket ;  sure,  the  divil  must  havn 
liis  due."  Shouts  and  laughter  again  fol 
lowed,  and  there  were  more  threats;  but  it 
was  all  in  vain,  big  and  little  remained,  and 
save  the  jeering  and  occasional  shout,  no  inter 
ference  was  offered.  The  furniture  was  stow- 
id  away,  the  more  orderly  of  the  assemblage 
had  entered  the  shop,  and  Sam,  having  his 
curiosity  excited,  crossed  the  street  to  sea 
what  was  going  on.  He  looked  in  from  the 
doorstep,  and  near  a  corner,  close  to  where 
some  household  articles  were  piled,  he  sa\v 
five  or  six  members  of  the  society  of  Friends* 


EXETER    HALL. 


71 


commonly  called  "  Quakers."  There  they 
stood,  with  the  utmost  gravity  and  decorum, 
and  the  majority  of  those  inside  seemed  to 
regard  them  with  deference.  Some  proceed 
ing  was  about  to  take  place  in  which  an 
interest  was  manifested,  and  while  many  out 
side  were  vehemently  discoursing,  the  expres 
sions,  "  national  church,"  and  "  national  curse, " 
could  be  heard  most  often ;  those  within  kept 
tolerably  still.  In  a  few  minutes,  a  kind  of 
beadle  or  tithing-man  stepped  upon  a  platform. 
He  was  a  stout,  coarse-looking  fellow,  evidently 
well  adapted  for  his  business  ;  he  leisurely  took 
from  his  pocket  a  paper,  and  having  spread  it 
before  him  on  a  desk,  glanced  first  at  the  at 
tendant  Friends  in  the  corner,  and  then  with 
stolid  indifference  at  the  upturned  faces  of 
those  around  him.  After  a  preliminary  cough, 
lie  lifted  the  document,  which  was  a  kind  of 
distress  warrant  or  execution  for  the  non-pay 
ment  of  church  rates,  and  said,  "  I  have  here 
authority  from  the  church  wardens  of  this 
parish  to  offer  for  sale  at  public  auction  the 
goods  and  chattels  of  Mary  Wilkins  and 
others,  for  the  non-payment  of  lawful  rates 
due  to  the  reverend  rector  ;  and  now  unless 
the  cash  is  paid,  with  costs,  forthwith,  I  shall 
commence.  Well,  what  do  you  say  ?" 

He  paused,  there  was  no  reply  ;  but  a  heavy 
sob  was  heard  from  one  poor  woman  who 
with  bent  head  stood  clutching  the  handle  of 
a  little  trunk  which  was  placed  on  a  table  be 
fore  her. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  in  haste  ;  I'll  just  give 
you  five  minutes  to  think,"  said  he,  chucking 
out  his  big  silver  watch,  "  five  minutes  to  pay 
the  legal  dues  of  the  church." 

He  then  coolly  stuck  his  thumbs  in  the  arm- 
holes  of  his  waistcoat,  and  began  to  whistle 
to  himself  unceremoniously  while  he  kept  time 
with  his  foot  on  the  platform. 

"  Friend,  thee  need  not  delay  on  our  account. 
We  do  not  recognize  thy  claim  to  be  just ;  we 
neither  enter  the  church  nor  hear  the  parson  ; 
therefore  we  have  no  right  to  pay.  Thee  must 
enforce  thy  unjust  tax  ;  the  society  of  Friends 
in  England  will  never  submit  to  thy  legal  ex 
tortion.  Thee  hast  seized,  and  thee  may  sell." 

"  Bravo  !"  cried  one :  and  a  murmur  of  ap 
probation  was  heard  around.  The  bf  adle  was 
getting  nettled,  and  hastily  replied  :  "  Oh !  you 
broad-brimmed  chaps  are  very  particular,  very 
conscientious.  The  church  is  there  for  you, 
and  if  Quakers  won't  go  near  it,  that's  their 
own  fault.  If  you  want  to  go  to  heaven  your 
own  way,  why,  then  you  must  pay  for  it.  If 
you  are  so  chock  full  of  the  Gospel  as  to  resist 
the  law  year  after  year,  the  same  law  will  just 
as  surely  prosecute."  A  hiss  could  now  be 
heard  over  the  i>lace.  A  policeman  called  out, 
"  Order !"  and  the  irritated  beadle,  with  a  "  Here 
goes !"  snatched  up  the  little  trunk,  and  placed 
it  on  a  stand  before  him. 

"I  have  here,"  said  he,  looking  at  his  war 
rant,  "  a  claim  against  Mary  Wilkins  of  one 
shilling  and  eight-pence  for  church  rates,  and 
half  a  crown  for  costs  ;  give  me  a  bid  for  this," 
and  he  tossed  about  the  trunk,  making  its  con 
tents  rattle.  It  was  locked,  and  he  applied  his 
big  thumb  to  the  hasp  to  try  if  it  would  give 
way.  "  How  much  for  this?  She  has  the  key, 
and  won't  let  us  see  the  contents.  I'll  lay 


I  there's  something  good  in  it,"  said  he,  with  & 

I  chuckle,  and  giving  a  peculiar  wink  at  one  of 

the  policeman.     "  What  do  you  say  for  this 

trunk  and  its  contents,  no  matter  if  it  holds 

Bank  of  England  notes  ?" 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  sobbing  woman,  turn 
ing  a  pleading  look  toward  the  audience, 
"  there's  nothing  in  it  but  my  dead  boy's 
clothes,  some  of  his  school-books,  and  other 
things  of  no  value  to  any  one  now  but  my 
self.  He  made  that  little  trunk  for  me,  and  it's 
all  I  have  belonging  to  him."  She  was  a 
widow,  and  had  lost  her  only  child. 

"  Come,  give  me  a  bid  ;  how  much  for  this 
— clothes,  books,  bank-notes  and  all  ?" 

Yet  no  bid  came,  the  suppressed  feelings  of 
all  present  scarcely  let  a  sound  louder  than  a 
whisper  be  heard;  and  as  the  poor  woman  stood 
silently  weeping,  with  head  still  bent  and  her 
hands  upon  her  face,  even  the  rough  crowd 
turned  toward  her  many  a  pitying  eye,  some 
of  which  were  already  brimful  of  tears. 

"  Can  I  hear  no  bid,  not  one  bid  for  this  ? 
then  if  you  don't,  I  shall  have  to  give  one 
myself.  Forbes,"  said  he,  turning  to  one  of 
the  policemen,  "  can't  you  do  something  for 
the  church  ?  Just  start  this." 

The  man  thus  appealed  to  only  shook  his 
head,  as  if  his  heart  and  emotions  were  all 
the  other  way.  There  was  another  pause,  the 
beadle  looked  perplexed ;  the  woman  stood 
close  by,  and  her  sobbing  was  heard,  as  if  her 
sobs  alone  could  now  sufficiently  plead  her 
case,  or  protest  against  the  wrong. 

"  I  will  give  thee  a  bid  for  that  poor  wo 
man,"  said  one  of  the  Friends,  moving  toward 
the  beadle. 

"  No,  you  don't,  I  guess,"  said  a  strange  voice ; 
the  people  turned  around,  and  Samuel  Stylea 
was  seen  elbowing  his  way  manfully  through 
the  crowd :  he  soon  reached  the  desk,  and  lay 
ing  hold  of  the  little  trunk,  and  giving  a  comi 
cal  look  at  the  beadle,  said,  "  Well,  old  stingo, 
what  do  you  want  for  this  ?" 

The  act  was  performed  so  quickly  and  with 
such  nonchalance,  that  the  beadle  himself  stood 
looking  in  gaping  wonder  at  this  assurance, 
and  the  affair  had  such  a  ridiculous  aspect 
that  the  general  laugh  which  followed  almost 
completely  disconcerted  the  church  official. 

"  Give  you  a  dollar ;  guess  that's  about 
right,  an't  it,  eh  ?  " 

I  don't  know  any  thing  about  your  Yan 
kee  dollars,"  said  the  beadle,  now  plucking 
up,  having  discovered  his  man  ;  "  if  you  say 
a  British  crown,  and  no  other  bid,  'tis  yours ." 

"  Can't  give  you  a  Yankee  one  anyhow  ; 
guess  we  han't  got  such  trinkets  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mill-pond ;  if  there  was  fewer 
crowns  round  these  diggins,  there  might  be 
more  money,  and  your  occupation  would  be 
gone.  Now  an't  that  strange  ?" 

The  gruff  beadle  was  in  no  mood  for  argu 
ment  ;  no  other  bid  was  given,  and  Sam  be 
came  the  purchaser  of  the  little  trunk  for  a 
'•crown."  He  immediately  restored  the  poor 
woman  her  property  ;  she  was  full  of  grateful 
expressions,  and  the  audience  applauded  so 
loudly  that  the  crowd  greatly  increased,  and 
those  who  passed  along  the  street  wondered 
at  the  sudden  acclamation. 

Order  being  restored,  the  sale  again  com 


EXETER    HALL. 


menced  ;  one  by  one  of  the  goods  and  chat 
tels  of  the  Friends  was  then  put  up,  but  quick 
ly  purchased  by  their  owners  for  just  sufficient 
to  pay  the  clerical  or  parochial  demand  against 
them.  The  society  of  Friends  have  ever  re- 
eisted,  and  still  continue  to  resist  the  iniqui 
tous  claim  for  tithes  or  church  rates,  and  the 
annual  formality  of  such  a  conscientious  pro 
test  is  still  to  be  witnessed,  and  still  the  pious 
and  legal  atrocity  is  as  regularly  consummated 
in  free  old  England. 

Samuel  Styles  had  now  witnessed  one  eflect 
of  the  practical  workings  of  the  British  State 
Church ;  a  degrading  instance  of  clerical  ex 
tortion  and  rapacity.  He  felt  the  most  utter 
disgust  at  such  a  vile  resort  to  plunder  a  com 
munity,  and  he  was  amazed  to  think  that  the 
intelligence,  civilization,  and  freedom  of  that 
great  country  should,  at  the  present  day,  sub 
mit  to  such  infamous  oppression.  But  he  did 
not  consider  at  the  time  how  the  masses  in 
Britain  have  struggled  against  priestly  power, 
or  how  the  great  minds  of  the  nation  have 
declaimed  against  such  usurpation.  He  did 
not  then  remember  that  that  terrible  incubus 
on  the  resources  of  the  country — the  State 
Church — was  shielded  by  a  royal  and  aristo 
cratic  influence  which  was  almost  absolute ;  and 
that  that  influence,  by  its  potency  and  wealth, 
still  controlled  Parliament ;  still  thrust  its 
mercenary  bishops  in  the  House  of  Lords ;  and 
still  degraded  British  legislation  before  the 
world,  by  leaving  unrepealed  among  its  sta 
tutes  authority  for  ecclesiastical  monopoly, 
a  code  of  laws  partial,  arbitrary,  and  unjust.* 

Dwelling  on  these  things,  he  wandered 
moodily  along  the  street,  and  crossed  Water 
loo  bridge  with  the  intention  of  going  to 
Hampstead.  He  went  on,  and  soon  found  him 
self  in  front  of  a  large  brick  building,  before 
which  a  number  of  stylish  vehicles  were 
drawn  up.  It  was  Exeter  Hall ;  some  one  of 
its  great  public  meetings  was  in  progress; 
people  were  yet  going  in,  and  he  felt  half  dis 
posed  to  follow.  For  many  years  he  had 
heard  of  this  great  arena  \rhere  liberty  had 
been  proclaimed  to  many,  but  where  others 
were  drawn  into  bondage ;  where  the  shackles 
of  the  slave  were  broken,  but  where  the  hu 
man  mind  was  bound  by  fetters  of  a  different 
kind,  and  led  into  servility. 

While  standing  here,  he  was  surprised  at 
the  evidences  of  wealth  and  poverty  which 
met  his  eye  ;  the  contrast  was  extreme.  Aris 
tocratic  equipages  passing  and  repassing, 
coachmen,  footmen,  and  postillions,  laden 
with  rich  lace  and  heraldic  trappings  were 
seen  in  every  direction  ;  while  at  the  same  time 
could  be  observed  the  sunken  eye  and  hoi-low 
cheek  of  numerous  wretched  and  forlorn  crea 
tures,  who  were  listlessly  lingering  around,  or 
moving  here  and  there  like  passing  shadows 
through  the  glittering  crowd.  He  was  impress 
ed  by  the  great  difference  of  circumstances,  and 
was  trying  to  philosophize  upon  a  remedy, 
when  his  attention  was  directed  to  a  movement 
of  the  people  who  had  been  standing  idly  about 
the  great  hall.  Policemen  were  busy  trying 
to  get  the  'loiterers  to  stand  aside,  a  lane  was 
soon  formed,  and  presently  a  stately  equipage 

*  See  Note  K. 


moved  slowly  away  from  the  building  and 
turned  toward  the  Strand.  As  it  came  along, 
the  policemen  raised  their  hats  deferentially  ; 
it  was  evident  that  one  of  the  numerous  great 
personages  of  London  was  present,  and,  upon 
inquiry,  Samuel  was  informed  that  it  was  the 
"  Lord  Bishop  of  London,"  a  great  name  there. 
He  had  just  presided  at  some  meeting  in 
which  the  church  was  interested,  and  as  that 
great  and  humble  "  successor  of  the  apo.-tles  " 
was  wheeled  away  after  his  arduous  duty,  he 
was  followed  in  formal  and  regular  order  by 
the  principal  and  minor  grades  of  metropoli 
tan  clergy,  who,  although  less  splendidly  con 
veyed,  yet  gave  palpable  evidence  to  the  poor 
and  hungry,  who  looked  wistfully  at  the  dis 
play,  that  to  many  "  Godliness  is  great  gain," 
even  in  this  wicked  world. 

Satisfied  in  his  own  mind  with  this  convic 
tion,  and  while  attracted  by  the  long  line  of 
moving  splendor,  his  eyes  rested  upon  a  cleri 
cal  vehicle  of  a  different  kind.  In  a  neat  car 
riage  drawn  by  a  pair  of  fine  horses  were 
four  persons,  two  young  ladies  in  front,  one 
of  whom  was  driving,  and  behind  sat  a  lady 
and  gentleman.  The  ladies  were  richly  dress 
ed,  the  gentleman  was  in  spotless  clerical 
black,  and  was  a  distinguished  and  popular 
preacher.  He  was  blandly  smiling  to  some 
whom  he  recognized  ;  and  while  his  heavy 
features  seemed  distorted  by  a  continued  un 
natural  effort  to  wear  a  smile,  Sam  caught  at 
a  glance  the  cold,  soulless  eye  of  Dr.  Buster. 
Even  there,  in  the  bright  sunlight,  in  the 
midst  of  favorable  surroundings,  seated  by 
fashion,  and  in  the  hurly-burly  of  actual  life 
and  business,  there  was  in  that  look  some 
thing  that  gave  even  to  Sam  a  momentary 
doubt  of  his  own  resolution.  Were  he  alone 
and  possessed  of  treasure,  he  would  not  like 
to  meet  such  a  countenance  in  a  desolate  place. 
But  see !  the  features  relax,  the  smile  is  gone, 
there  is  a  frown,  and  suddenly  a  scowl  of  hate, 
which  the  doctor  as  suddenly  hurled  into  the 
benevolent  face  of — Martin  Mannors. 

Samuel,  following  the  direction  of  the  doc 
tor's  eye,  saw  Robert  at  a  few  yards  distance  ; 
he  was  driving  a  small  neat  vehicle,  and  by  his 
side  sat  a  person  whom  he  immediately  took 
to  be  Mr.  Mannors,  and  who  had  his  calm  eye 
unflinchingly  fixed  upon  the  lowering  features 
that  already  seemed  to  shrink  and  wither  be 
neath  his  mild  but  steady  gaze.  The  doctor 
had  thus  unexpectedly  met  one  for  whom  his 
dread  had  generated  a  deadly  hate  ;  he  hur 
riedly  reached  over  and  struck  one  of  th« 
horses  with  his  cane,  and  as  they  rushed  on 
ward  he  made  some  frivolous  excuse  to  the 
ladies  about  becoming  nervous  in  a  crowded 
thoroughfare. 

"  There  he  goes,"  said  Robert,  looking  after 
them,  "  there  goes  a  saint  as  I  hope  to  see 
elevated  nearer  heaven  one  of  these  days." 
And  saying  this,  he  quickly  and  significantly 
wound  the  end  of  his  whip-lash  around  hia 
own  neck.  He  now  observed  Sam  who  stood 
close  by,  and  was  glad  they  had  met.  "  This 
is  my  cousin,  sir,  this  is  Yankee  Sam,  sir,  all 
the  way  from  America — a  wildish  chap  in  hia 
way." 

Mr.  Mannors  was  much  pleased  to  meet  Ro 
bert's  friend ;  he  had  heard  of  him,  and  of  th« 


EXETER    HALL. 


73 


adventure  of  the  preceding  night.  He  gave 
him  an  invitation  to  Hampstead,  and  made  him 
promise  to  call  there  with  Robert  the  next 
day.  He  was  no\v  on  his  way  to  town,  and 
might  not  return  before  night.  A  few  remarks 
were  then  made  about  the  unexpected  meet 
ing  they  had  just  had  with  Dr.  Buster.  Mr. 
Mannors  said  but  little,  yet  there  was  a  mean 
ing  in  his  look  that  could  not  be  misunder 
stood. 

After  they  had  driven  away,  Sam  felt  in  a 
rambling  mood  ;  he  was  quite  indifferent  ast  > 
his  course,  and  walked  through  several  streets, 
often  stopping  before  gorgeous  shop-windows 
to  look  at  the  rich  goods  and  splendid  wares 
exhibited,  then  halting  to  guess  the  dimen 
sions  of  some  immense  church  or  public  build 
ing.  He  loitered  near  gardens  and  wealthy 
mansions  ;  then  in  a  park,  and,  going  on  still 
further,  got  in  the  neighborhood  of  an  old 
churchyard.  It  was  not  a  cemetery  on  the 
modern  plan  ;  it  was  a  crowded  acre  or  two  in 
the  midst  of  dwellings,  like  some  of  those  he 
had  seen  in  Philadelphia  —  charnel-places, 
which  are  yet  allowed  to  pollute  the  air  of 
that  city.  The  burial-ground  in  question  was 
inclosed  by  an  iron  railing  and  surrounded  by 
some  squat-looking  buildings,  and  tall  lod 
ging  houses ;  and  even  there,  at  short  distances, 
were  places  where  strong  liquors  and  London 
stout  could  be  had  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  prox 
imity  of  these  resorts  to  the  dead  often  induced 
mourners  to  test  the  oblivious  qualities  of 
such  liquids. 

Outside  of  one  of  these  places,  some  distance 
up  the  street,  and  nearly  in  front  of  the  prin 
cipal  gate  of  the  cemetery,  a  great  number  of 
persons  were  assembled  ;  others  came  on  every 
moment ;  some  remained  near  the  gate,  while 
many  went  into  the  graveyard.  Anxious  to 
see  what  was  going  on,  Sam  hurried  to  the 
place ;  the  crowd  was  getting  larger  every 
moment,  and  boys  clung  to  the  iron  railing ; 
while  others  were  busy  climbing  such  lamp 
posts,  or  trees  as  would  afford  a  view.  Think 
ing  some  great  funeral  was  expected,  he  asked 
a  by-stander,  a  plain  looking  workman,  if  such 
was  to  be  the  case ;  the  man  at  once  replied, 
"  No,  it  beant  no  funeral.  We  had  one  here 
abouts  yesterday — Tom  Jones's  child — there's 
the  grave  yonder,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the 
cemetery.  The  end  of  the  little  mound 
could  be  seen,  and  close  to  it  stood  the  father 
and  a  number  of  men  armed  with  sticks  and 
clubs — a  resolute  dare-devil  set,  that  were 
ready  to  bid  defiance  to  law  or  gospel. 

"  Now,"  continued  the  man,  "  Tom  is  a 
Methodee,  and  the  parson  don't  like  such,  and 
says  'cause  the  child  wasn't  baptized,  it  shan't 
lie  there." 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  they're  going 
to  take  it  up  again  1" 

"  Yes,  that's  it,  they're  coming  here  to-day, 
coming  now  to  do  it.  The  parson  is  high- 
church — a  high-flyer — and  wants  that  bit  of 
pasture  for  his  own  nock.  See,  here  they 
come — damn  them  !" 

Another  crowd  was  now  moving  down 
toward  the  churchyard,  but  neither  the  so- 
called  "  high-flyer  "  nor  his  expected  assis 
tants  could  be  seen.  It  was  another  funeral  ; 
the  aged  mother  of  one  of  the  parish  work 


men  had  died,  and  they  brought  her  body  to 
the  old  resting-place  for  interment,  and,  as  sha 
had  been  some  kind  of  Methodist,  several  said 
that  bringing  her  there  would  be  the  cause  of 
more  trouble.  For  some  years  past  a  sect  of 
Methodists  called  "  Ranters  "  had  been  estab 
lished  in  certain  districts  of  the  city — a  sect 
very  plain  in  its  way,  but  very  noisy  and  up 
roarious  in  its  religious  demonstrations.  Its 
members  were  almost  entirely  belonging  to 
the  poorer  working  class,  which  great  mission 
ary  societies  in  their  anxiety  for  the  conver 
sion  of  foreign  heathens  had  overlooked.  Now, 
the  Ranters  looked  upon  the  pretensions  of 
the  church  with  great  indifference  ;  and  the 
church,  or  at  least  the  high-church,  still  as 
suming  control  over  the  souls  of  English  sin 
ners,  claimed  to  dictate,  and  would  not  allow 
an  u'nbaptized  thing  to  moulder  side  by  side 
with  "  the  faithful ;"  nor  should  any  who  had 
left  the  bosom  of  the  church  for  a  conventicle 
find  interment  in  a  parochial  grave,  unless  the 
formal  burial  service  was  read  at  the  place  by 
an  authorized  minister.  No,  the  church  could 
never  forget  its  authority  ;  it  would  still  hurl 
its  legal  anathemas,  and  deny  to  the  foul 
weeds  of  dissent  Christian  burial  in  "  con 
secrated  ground."* 

The  funeral  now  arrived  at  the  gate ;  the 
bearers  were  ordered  to  halt ;  a  line  of  con 
stables  stood  across  the  entrance,  and  a  cler 
gyman  with  a  very  little  head,  very  little 
eyes,  and  a  very  large  nose,  pompously  warn 
ed  the  intruders  to  keep  off.  He  held  a  folded 
surplice  on  one  arm,  and  nourished  the  other 
with  clerical  determination.  A  number  of 
other  constables  kept  moving  about,  and  mat 
ters  looked  serious ;  some  were  for  an  imme 
diate  resort  to  force,  while  others  advised  a 
more  peaceable  method.  The  bearers  now 
lowered  the  coffin  on  the  pavement,  and  one 
of  the  relatives  asked  that  permission  might 
be  given  to  bury  the  deceased  in  the  same 
place  where  her  husband  and  two  of  her  chil 
dren  had  been  laid  years  before.  But  the 
parson  was  inexorable  ;  none,  he  said,  should 
have  the  privilege  of  burial  in  that  place  but 
deceased  members  of  the  church  ;  those  who 
resisted  its  authority  should  be  as  the  heathen 
and  the  publican.  The  body  of  every  schis 
matic  found  in .  that  churchyard  should  be 
disinterred,  and  buried  where  they  ought  to 
be  —  in  the  common  highway.  Yells  and 
groans  followed  this  reply  ;  a  hundred  indig 
nant  faces  could  be  seen  around,  and  al 
ready  some  were  collecting  stones  and  other 
missiles  for  a  pitched  battle.  One  or  two  per 
sons,  however,  seemed  to  have  control,  and  an 
old  workman  stood  upon  the  coffin,  and,  aftei 
having  called  the  attention  of  all  present,  said ; 

"  Friends,  we  all  know  that  this  is  an  un- 

*  Perhaps  one  of  the  latest  specimens  of  this  kind 
of  clerical  intolerance  is  exhibited  in  the  follow 
ing:,  from  an  English  paper  — the  London  National 
Reformer :  "  The  Kev.  Mr.  Mirehouse,  Rector  of  Col- 
sterworth,  has  been  displaying  his  Christian  charity 
by  refusing  to  bury  a  child,  because  it  had  not  been 
baptized  at  his  establishment,  but  had  had  its  sins  re 
mitted  at  the  Wesleyan  Chapel.  \Vheu  the  funeral 
procession  arrived  at  the  church,  the  gates  were  lock 
ed,  and  it  was  not  until  the  mother  of  the  child  fainted 
in  the  street  that  this  '  Christian  gentleman  and  ha 
mane  man  *  allowed  the  funeral  to  enter  the  '  consecrat 
ed'  ground." 


EXETER    HALL. 


Christian  proceeding  ;  we  know  that  there  is 
no  religious  equality  yet  in  this  land  ;  much 
as  we  may  boast  of  our  free  laws,  there,"  said 
he,  pointing  down  to  the  coffin,  "  is  an  evi 
dence  of  their  partiality,  and  some,  as  we  now 
see,  would  have  no  equality  even  in  the  grave. 
But  it  matters  not  where  this  poor  body  be 
neath  my  feet  is  to  be  hidden,  whether  in  a 
field  or  highway,  neither  does  it  matter  what 
is  said  over  her  remains.  I  may  not  live, 
friends,  to  see  it,  but,  remember,"  said  he, 
lowering  his  voice,  "  there's  a  good  time  com 
ing,  and  England  will  yet  be  free.  I  would 
now  advise  that  if  the  clergyman  permits  us 
to  bury  the  body  here,  her  friends  shall  con 
sent  to  allow  the  '  church  service  '  to  be  read, 
and  so  end  further  trouble." 

After  some  contention,  this  prudent  advice 
was  followed  ;  it  was  a  triumph  for  the  church. 
The  minister,  after  a  show  of  hesitation,  con 
sented,  and  in  a  few  moments  afterward  he 
was  heard  in  sonorous  tones  consigning  to 
the  grave  "  the  body  of  our  deceased  sister," 
and  she  was  thus  laid  in  the  same  earth  with 
her  mouldering  relatives. 

While  tliis  ceremony  was  taking  place,  and 
•while  most  of  those  present  stood  around  the 
grave,  the  constables  formed  a  circle  about 
that  of  the  «hild,  two  men  tossed  aside  the 
mound,  and  commenced  to  disinter  the  body. 
These  proceedings  were  not  noticed  for  some 
time  ;  but  soon  word  was  passed  from  one  to 
another,  and  the  incensed  father,  followed  by 
a  hundred  others,  rushed  upon  the  constables, 
and  in  less  than  a  minute  three  or  four  of 
them  were  bleeding  profusely,  and  the  two 
men  who  had  been  digging  at  the  grave  were 
leveled  to  the  earth  and  shouting  for  mercy. 
Sticks  and  stones  were  flying  in  all  directions  ; 
one  fellow  was  seen  tramping  furiously  on 
the  minister's  hat,  while  another  tore  his 
surplice  into  ribbons.  The  parson  however 
was  strong  in  the  faith,  and  though  pressed 
back,  step  by  step,  by  the  reckless  crowd,  he 
feared  no  mob,  but  continued  to  urge  the 
police  to  support  his  authority.  At  this 
juncture,  some  one  with  truer  aim  than  the 
rest  flung  a  large  sod  at  the  head  of  his 
reverence,  and  he  was  seen  to  tumble  back 
ward  across  the  little  grave  which  had  been 
already  violated  by  his  orders. 

The  scene  at  this  time  was  one  of  great  con 
fusion  ;  yells,  oaths,  threats,  and  even  blows 
were  still  heard,  just  as  if  a  legion  of  demons 
had  been  let  loose  among  the  tombs.  The 
constables  were  powerless,  their  main  effort 
now  seemed  to  be  to  protect  the  minister ; 
but  their  help  to  him  would  have  been  of 
little  avail,  were  it  not  for  the  old  workman 
who  had  spoken  at  the  gate,  and  a  few  others. 
The  parson  was  with  some  difficulty  dragged 
away  from  the  place,  the  constables  retired, 
but  the  crowd  remained,  and  the  triumph  this 
time  was  with  the  people.  Samuel  Styles,  who 
had  witnessed  the  whole  proceedings,  was 
now  thoroughly  disgusted  ;  he  had  often  heard 
and  read -of  similar  scenes,  but  he  had  no  idea 
that  such  clerical  intolerance  would  be  at 
tempted  in  England  at  that  period  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  He  had  now  seen  enough 
of  it  in  one  day  to  last  him  for  life ;  and  a 
rumor  having  spread  that  the  constables  would 


return  with  reinforcements,  he  left  the  "  con 
secrated  ground  "  and  place  of  contest.  That 
night,  while  sitting  in  the  large  room  of  the 
Red  Lion,  the  principal  theme  was  the  innate 
tyranny  of  priestcraft. 

Early  next  morning  the  papers  teemed  with 
conflicting  accounts  of  the  proceedings  at  the 
cemetery ;  and  journals  in  the  interest  of  the 
church  commented  vehemently  on  the  savage 
outrage  which  had  been  perpetrated  by  a 
heathenish  mob  against  a  "  defenseless  ser 
vant  of  God."  There  was  no  word  of  extenu 
ation  in  these  religious  papers  for  the  outraged 
feelings  of  the  people.  Clerical  correspondents 
suggested  that  some  immediate  action  must 
be  taken ;  a  line  of  demarkation  should  be 
drawn  in  every  cemetery  to  distinguish  the 
"  faithful "  from  dissenters.  Some  argued  that 
a  dividing  wall  should  be  built  in  each  church 
yard,  others  thought  a  hedge  might  answer, 
while  others  would  be  content  with  a  gravel 
walk  ;  it  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  enable 
all  to  distinguish  where  lay  those  who  had 
been  blessed  by  England,  or  cursed  by  Rome, 
damned  by  dissent,  or  saved  by  the  State 
Church. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MR.  CAPEL  had  been  absent  several  days, 
and  had  visited  every  station  on  the  circuit. 
In  his  missionary  wanderings,  he  traveled 
through  a  picturesque  country,  rich  in  land 
scape  scenery,  reminding  him  of  the  rock  and 
river  and  mountain  of  his  native  land.  He 
passed  by  pleasant  meadows,  where  lazy  cattle 
fed  and  rested,  scarcely  moving  at  his  ap 
proach.  He  rode  through  shaded  lanes,  fra 
grant  from  hawthorn  blossoms  on  either  side ; 
then  by  some  quaint  old  place  which  had 
given  a  page  to  history  ;  by  little  brooks  and 
shining  rivers ;  by  woodman's  cottage,  nest 
ling  among  trees  ;  and  then  he  wound  around 
some  grassv  hill-slope,  towering  above  which 
might  be  'seen  a  hoary,  crumbling  castle, 
crouching  under  the  sheltering  ivy,  as  if  wait 
ing  for  the  final  stroke  of  time.  Yet,  attractive 
as  these  would  have  been  to  him  at  other 
times,  he  scarcely  glanced  at  the  magnificent 
grouping ;  he  was  in  deep  thought,  thinking 
of  what  he  had  lately  read ;  and  during  his 
abstraction,  the  horse  walked  slowly  along, 
often  even  stopping  to  pluck  at  the  fresh 
grass  which  grew  by  the  road-side.  Now  and 
then  he  would  arouse,  and  urge  his  beast 
onward ;  he  would  look  around  for  some 
object  on  which  to  feast  his  eye,  in  order  to 
rid  himself  of  doubts  and  harassing  specula 
tions  ;  but  while  seemingly  intent  on  some  pic 
ture  of  rustic  scenery,  or  at  the  commingling 
of  shadow  and  sunlight  beneath  the  rough 
branches  of  some  old  oak,  he  would  relapse 
again,  and  again  his  thoughts  would  wander 
away,  away,  far  from  their  wonted  track,  and 
then  return  but  to  transform  into  hideous 
images  the  ideas  which  he  once  considered  so 
fair  and  beautiful. 

It  was  only  when  he  was  actively  engaged 
among  the  people  to  whom  he  was  sent  that 
he,  in  a  measure,  got  rid  of  this  embarrass 
ment  ;  and  he  applied  himself  perseveringly. 


He  tried  to  obtain  a  fair  knowledge  of  tlie 
wants,  wishes,  and  mental  status  of  the  peo 
ple  among  whom  he  was  destined  for  a  time 
to  labor.  He  was  very  punctual  in  his  minis 
tration;  preached  once,  and  often  twice,  each 
day,  and  was  diligent  in  the  performance  of 
his  other  duties.  For  the  time,  he  devoted 
himself  very  assiduously  to  these  matters,  and 
tried  hard  to  think  of  little  else.  He  found 
Methodism  there  much  like  what  it  was  in 
Ireland  ;  but  the  people  were  rather  more  de 
monstrative  in  their  religious  exercises,  ac 
cepting  the  peculiarities  of  their  creed  as 
pure  gospel,  and  rarely  ever  doubting  the 
propriety  of  any  rite,  doctrine,  or  ex]M)sition 
b.-aring  the  sanction  of  the  revered  Wesley. 
Indeed,  the  credulity  of  some  would  have 
approved  of  any  absurdity,  provided  it  had 
his  indorsation,  thus  acting  like  thousands 
who  continue  to  pin  their  faith  to  the  sleeve 
of  others. 

Mr.  Capel  kept  busy ;  every  suitable  mo 
ment  was  one  of  industry.  He  wished  to 
ascertain  the  state  of  religion  on  the  circuit  ; 
to  know  the  state  of  every  class,  and  the  quali 
fication  of  every  class-leader  ;  was  particular 
to  learn  who  were  the  most  exemplary  mem 
bers  ;  gave  a  word  of  encouragement  to  some, 
and  a  suitable  rebuke  to  backsliders.  But 
ah  !  the  thought  then  came,  Who  was  it  that 
might  yet  rebuke  him  ?  Even  here,  among 
the  few  who  had  once  been  faithful,  there 
stepped  aside  out  of  the  beaten  track  daring 
skeptics.  He  had  heard  of  this,  and  felt  alarm 
ed  lest  even  he,  the  preacher,  should  yet  fol 
low  them  in  their  terrible  descent.  Still  he 
worked ;  he  did  not  want  to  think ;  he  had 
been  near  the  precipice,  and  had  just  looked 
over  its  dreadful  brink,  and  shrunk  back,  as  if 
fearful  that  some  sudden  impulse  would  urge 
him  to  destruction. 

For  nearly  a  week  he  thus  struggled  with 
the  mutiny  of  his  own  thoughts — thoughts 
that  would  obtrude  themselves ;  frightful 
forms,  which  he  tried  to  hurl  into  oblivion. 
But  the  trial  came  at  last ;  he  could  be  ac 
tive  during  the  day,  he  could  then  form  sage 
resolutions  to  cling  forever  to  the  ark  in  which 
so  great  a  number  had  found  refuge,  and 
which  had  borne  him  thus  far  through  storm 
and  sunshine  so  safely  and  pleasantly.  He 
would  pray  more — would  urge  the  Lord — 
would  assuredly  find  the  promised  help,  would 
find  more  strength  to  resist,  and  more  determi 
nation  to  follow  on  in  the  narrow  way,  with 
out  looking  to  the  right  hand  or  left,  until  he 
attained  "  eternal  life."  Thus  it  was  with  him 
in  the  busy  daytime  ;  but  then  came  the  night 
—  night  again,  with  its  shadows — not  a  time 
for  him  of  quiet  contemplation  or  calm  repose, 
but  a  season  for  wild  conjectures  and  fevered 
dreams,  and  for  alternate  feelings  of  hope  and 
despair.  Now,  again,  came  those  thoughts 
which  one  by  one  sought  to  rob  him  of  some 
treasured  idea,  some  glittering  little  idol  that 
he  worshiped  from  infancy.  Why  was  he 
troubled  thus,  why  doubtful  of  the  Word  of 
Lite  ?  Could  he  not  be  content  with  evidences 
and  assurances  that  had  satisfied  a  Wesley, 
a  Whitefield,  a  Clark  or  a  Paley  ?  He  had  read 
and  re-read  their  learned  expositions,  and  now 
by  such  aid  he  sought  to  banish  those  obtru 


sive  fancies  which  kept  him  restless  and  wa 
vering  ;  but  those  expositions,  once  considered 
so  lucid  and  satisfactory,  had  now,  alas!  for 
him,  degenerated  into  mere  assumptions,  or 
speculation.  He  had  all  his  life  been  hearing 
and  reading  one  side  of  a  history,  and  had  but 
just  glanced  at  the  other  side,  to  find  that 
that  structure,  the  erection  of  which  had  ta 
ken  centuries,  was  already  crumbling  to  ruins. 
He  would  lie  awake  thinking  of  his  conversa 
tions  with  Mr.  Mannors,  of  the  history  of 
Christianity,  of  its  rapacity  and  persecution  ; 
of  Romish  and  English  popes,  and  of  their 
respective  state-churches ;  of  the  wealth  and 
blood  that  had  been  expended  to  secure  their 
establishment,  and  of  the  salaried  armies  of 
bishops,  priests,  and  preachers  yet  required  to 
keep  the  world  from  relapsing  into  paganism. 

Against  this  array,  Science  had  now  lifted 
its  mighty  arm.  Reason  was  boldly  assert 
ing  its  rights,  while  Truth  was  silently  point 
ing  to  the  throne  from  which  it  had  long  been 
excluded  by  an  usurper.  There  was  the  "  In 
spired  Word"  which  he  had  been  taught  to 
revere,  and  which  had  for  centuries  been  held 
in  awe  by  multitudes,  now  treated  by  the  in 
telligence  of  the  age  as  a  myth.  The  "sa 
cred"  narrative  had  been  subjected  to  impious 
criticism,  and  its  assertions  tested,  like  those 
of  any  other  book,  by  Reason  and  Philosophy. 
How  had  it  stood  the  test  ?  Thousands  had 
thrown  it  aside  as  worthless.  Should  he  do 
so,  might  he  not  make  a  fatal  mistake?  He 
was  taught  to  believe  that  the  greatest  attain 
ment  of  reason  was  to  know  that  there  was 
an  infinity  of  knowledge  beyond  its  limits. 
Might  not  this  knowledge  be  centred  in  the 
Bible,  and  might  not  erring,  presumptuous 
man  misinterpret  its  teachings  ?  But  why 
misinterpret  ?- why,  if  written  for  man's 
guidance  and  instruction,  should  it  be  so  con 
tradictory  to  reason  ? — why  should  it  so  bewil 
der  both  wayfaring  man  and  philosopher  ? 
He  had  expressed  to  Mr.  Mannors  a  will 
ingness  to  investigate  the  Bible,  and  he 
had  scarcely  commenced  before  he  became 
startled,  and  was  almost  ready  to  recede.  He 
had  already  discovered  enough  to  leave  him 
in  a  labyrinth  of  doubt  and  perplexity. 

He  found  that  there  was  no  evidence  to 
show  that  the  books  said  to  have  been  written 
by  Moses  were  ever  penned  by  him  ;  on  the 
contrary,  there  was  the  most  conclusive  proof 
within  their  own  pages  to  establish  that  they 
were  the  production  of  other  persons,  hun 
dreds  of  years  after  the  death  of  their  reputed 
author  1  Had  they  been  written  b.T  Moses, 
they  could  have  contained  no  descriptive  ac 
count  of  his  own  death  and  burial ;  they  would 
not  have  been  written  in  the  third  person,  as, 
"  The  Lord  said  unto  Moses — "  "  Moses 
said  unto  the  people  ;"  nor  would  he  have  re 
ferred  to  himself  in  the  fulsome  terms  mention 
ed  in  Numbers,  12th  chapter,  3d  verse: 
"  Now  the  man,  Moses,  was  very  meek  above 
all  the  men  which  were  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth."  But  the  most  positive  evidence 
against  the  assumption  that  Moses  was  the 
writer  is  the  numerous  anachronisms  which 
occur.  Moses  is  made  to  relate  in  the  past 
tense  events  which  did  not  happen  in  his  life 
time,  nor  indeed  for  centuries  afterward 


EXETER    HALL. 


The  poor  plea  can  not  be  made  that  he  was 
speaking  prophetically  ;  it  is  a  plain  relation 
of  occurrences,  said  to  have  taken  place 
previous  to  the  time  of  their  record.  In  the 
14th  chapter  of  Genesis,  there  is  an  account 
of  how  Lot  was  taken  prisoner  in  battle  and 
carried  off,  and  that  Abraham  and  his  follow 
ers  marched  to  rescue  him,  and  followed  his 
captors  as  far  as  Dan.  Now  there  was  no 
place  known  as  Dan  in  the  Bible  until  over 
800  years  after  the  reputed  death  of  Moses ; 
consequently,  it  would  be  as  absurd  to  state 
that  Moses  mentioned  such  a  place  as  it  would 
be  to  assert  that  a  writer  of  Shakespeare's  time 
had  mentioned  an  incident  of  Waterloo. 
Thus,  concerning  the  burial  of  Moses,  the 
writer  states,  "  And  he  buried  him  in  a  valley 
in  the  land  of  Moab,  over  against  Beth- 
peor :  but  no  man  knoweth  of  his  sepulchre 
unto  this  day." 

"And  there  arose  not  a  prophet  since  in 
Israel  like  unto  Moses." 

The  36th  chapter  of  Genesis  gives  the  gene 
alogy  of  the  descendants  of  Esau  called 
"  Edomites,"  and  a  list  of  these  kings  ;  and  the 
81st  verse  says,  "  And  these  are  the  kings  that 
reigned  in  Edom  before  there  reigned  any  king 
over  the  children  of  Israel."  These  passages 
could  not  have  been  written  by  Moses.  The 
latter  verse  must  have  been  written  at  least 
after  the  time  of  David;  there  were  no  kings 
in  Israel  in  the  days  of  Moses,  consequently 
the  writer  of  that  particular  passage  must 
have  lived  in  the  time  of  King  David,  or 
during  a  subsequent  reign  ;  for  if  at  this  pres 
ent  day  a  writing  without  date  should  be  dis 
covered,  and  which,  in  speaking  of  past  events, 
should  say  that  such  and  such  an  occurrence 
took  place  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria, 
the  inference  as  to  the  writer  would  of  course 
be,  that  he  lived  and  wrote  after  her  acces 
sion. 

These  texts,  then,  are  proof  positive  that 
Moses  was  not  the  writer ;  that  they  either 
must  be  interpolations — which,  to  get  rid  of 
the  difficulty,  some  would  admit — or  the  whole 
book  is  an  anonymous  tradition  of  absurd 
ities. 

With  regard  to  the  other  books  said  to  have 
been  written  by  Moses,  similar  evidence  can 
be  had  in  abundance,  to  prove  he  was  not  the 
writer.  In  Exodus,  16th  chapter,  and  35th 
verse,  it  is  said :  "  And  the  children  of  Israel 
did  eat  manna  forty  years,  until  they  came  to 
a  land  inhabited ;  they  did  eat  manna,  until 
they  came  unto  the  borders  of  the  land  of  Ca 
naan."  As  this  account  extends  beyond  the 
life  of  Moses,  it  is  plain  that  he  could  not 
have  related  it. 

The  curious  instance  in  Deuteronomy,  3d 
chapter,  verse  11,  shows  the  fabulous  notions 
which  prevailed  at  the  time.  One  concerning 
a  race  of  giants  says  :  "  For  only  Og,  king  of 
Bashan,  remained  of  the  remnant  of  giants ; 
behold  his  bedstead  was  a  bedstead  of  iron,  is 
it  not  in  Rabbath  of  the  children  of  Aiumon  ? 
nine  cubits  was  the  length  thereof,  and  four 
cubits  the  breadth  of  it,  after  the  cubit  of  a 
man." 

According  to  this  measurement,  the  bed- 
Btead  was  over  16  feet  in  length,  and  more 
than  seven  feet  wide.  This  singular  relation 


could  not  have  been  made  by  Moses,  for  he 
knew  nothing  of  Rabbath,  nor  of  what  was 
in  it.  It  was  not  a  city  owned  by  this  giant. 
The  knowledge,  therefore,  that  this  bedstead 
was  at  Rabbath,  and  the  particulars  of  its  di 
mensions,  must  be  referred  to  the  period  when 
Rabbath  was  taken,  which  was  not  until  400 
years  after  the  death  of  Moses,  according  to 
2d  Samuel,  12th  chapter,  26th  verse:  "And 
Joab  fought  against  Rabbath  of  the  children 
of  Ammon,  and  took  the  royal  city."  News 
was  then  sent  to  King  David ;  and  the  29th 
verse  says  that  "  he  gathered  all  the  people 
together,  and  went  to  Rabbath  and  fought 
against  it  and  took  it ;"  and  then,  after  robbing 
the  king  of  his  crown,  and  sacking  the  city, 
a  proof  of  King  David's  lovirgkindness  and 
tender  mercy  toward  the  miserable  inhabi 
tants  is  given  in  the  30th  verse  : 

"And  he  brought  forth  the  people  that 
were  therein,  and  put  them  under  saws,  and 
under  harrows  of  iron,  and  under  axes  of  iron, 
and  made  them  pass  through  the  brick-kiln  ; 
and  thus  did  he  unto  ALL  the  cities  of  the 
children  of  Ammon.  So  David  and  the  peo 
ple  returned  to  Jerusalem." 

If  such  infamous  brutalities  could  possibly 
meet  the  approval  of  a  merciful  God,  it  must 
have  been  the  savage  and  revengeful  Deity  of 
the  Jews,  not  the  more  humane  and  consider 
ate  God  of  the  Gentiles. 

The  same  objections  that  are  urged  against 
the  credibility  of  the  books  of  Moses,  or  the 
Pentateuch,  also  appear  against  the  book  said 
to  have  been  written  by  Joshua,  as  well  as 
against  many  other  of  the  strange  books  which 
compose  the  Bible.  In  the  24th  chapter,  29th 
and  following  verses,  he  is  made  to  give  an 
account  of  hu  own  death  and  burial,  and  of 
events  which  followed. 

An  astonishing  fact  respecting  the  books 
of  Moses  shows  that  the  first  certain  trace 
of  the  Pentateuch  in  its  present  form  was 
when  one  Hilkiah,  a  priest,  said  he  had  found 
the  book  of  the  law  in  the  house  of  the  Lord. 
This  discovery  is  said  to  have  been  made  as 
late  as  624  years  before  Christ.  The  finding 
caused  a  great  sensation.  The  alarmed  mon 
arch,  King  Josiah, "  rent  his  clothes,"  went  to 
the  temple,  and  read  "  all  the  words  of  the 
book  ;"  and  a  great  reformation  immediately 
commenced.  It  is  evident  that  if  these  books 
of  Moses  had  been  previously  known  to  the 
Jews,  they  would  not  have  manifested  such 
surprise  and  alarm  upon  their  discovery  by 
Hilkiah.  That  discovery  stands  upon  his  mere 
assertion.  He  might  have  written  "  the  book 
of  the  law"  himself,  or,  if  there  were  any 
ancient  records  that  he  knew  of,  he  might 
have  made  such  alterations  as  he  pleased  ;  it  is 
evident,  however,  that  at  that  period  there  was 
but  one  copy  of  the  law  in  existence,  the  va 
lidity  of  which  depended  entirely  upon  the 
veracity  of  this  priest.  The  story  is  o  be 
found  in  the  34th  chapter  of  2d  Chronicles. 

Here,  therefore,  appears  a  strange  contradic 
tion.  We  are  told  in  31st  chapter  of  Deuter 
onomy  that  about  1450  years  before  Christ, 
when  Moses,  it  is  said,  made  an  end  of  writing 
the  words  of  the  law  in  a  book,  he  said  to  the 
Levites,  "  Take  this  book  of  the  law  and  put 
it  in  the  side  of  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant  of  the 


EXETER    HALL. 


Lord  yotir  God,  that  it  may  be  there  to  witness 
against  you."  Now  if  this  book  of  the  law 
was  faithfully  kept  with  that  reverential  care 
which  the  Jews  are  said  to  have  had  for  it,  why 
was  it  not  in  the  same  ark  450  years  after 
ward,  at  the  time  the  great  temple  is  said  to 
have  been  dedicated  by  Solomon  '!  It  was  not 
then  to  be  found,  and  no  mention  is  made  of 
such  a  book  ;  for  in  the  8th  chapter  of  1st 
book  of  Kings,  it  is  said  :  "  There  was  nothing 
in  the  Ark  save  the  two  tables  of  stone  which 
Moses  put  there  at  Horeb." 

It  is  impossible  to  reconcile  these  discrepan 
cies.  Errors  of  this  kind  implanted  in  a  book 
claiming  to  be  inspired  seriously  affect  the 
credibility  of  the  whole.  But  why  should  an 
almost  unknown  barbarous  tribe  like  the  an 
cient  Jews  be  the  sole  recipients  of  favors  and 
communications  from  the  Deity  ?  As  a  race, 
they  were  perhaps  the  most  vindictive,  cruel, 
and  blood-thirsty  monsters  tliat  ever  lived  ; 
their  God  was  but  the  reflection  of  themselves, 
and  their  law-giver  Moses,  called  meek,  possess 
ed  such  a  character  as  the  civilization  of  the 
present  day  would  pronounce  thoroughly  cruel 
nnd  depraved.  His  first  prominent  act  was  the 
deliberate  murder  of  an  Egyptian,  whom  he 
buried  in  the  sand  ;  and  afterward  he  was  the 
hero  of  a  number  of  murders  and  robberies 
almost  too  dreadful  to  recite  ;  and  the  writings 
which  bear  his  sanction  are  records  of  fearful 
atrocity.  While  assuming  to  teach  his  coun- 
rymen  purer  doctrines,  and  a  more  correct  no 
tion  of  a  Divine  Being,  he  followed  the  exam 
ple  of  surrounding  nations  by  the  slaughter 
of  poor  dumb  brutes,  as  a  sacrifice  to  appease 
the  imaginary  wrath  of  his  Deity.  He  in 
cited  the  Jews  to  be  faithless  and  implacable 
to  their  enemies,  and  to  rob  and  murder  them 
whenever  an  opportunity  offered.  Not  only 
was  he  cruel  to  strangers,  but  by  his  com 
mands,  death  was  the  penalty  to  his  own  peo 
ple  for  comparatively  trivial  offenses,  as  well 
as  for  a  difference  of  opinion  with  regard  to 
worship. 

In  Leviticus,  24th  chapter,  13th  to  16th 
verses,  there  is  an  evidence  of  great  disregard 
for  human  life:  "  And  the  Lord  spake  unto 
Moses,  saying,  Bring  forth  him  that  hath 
cursed  without  the  camp,  and  let  all  that  heard 
him  lay  their  hands  upon  his  head,  and  let  all 
the  congregation  stone  him."  "  And  he  that 
blasphemeth  the  name  of  the  Lord,  he  shall 
surely  be,  put  to  denth,  and  till  the  congrega 
tion  shall  certainly  stone  him  ;  as  well  the 
stranger  as  he  that  is  born  in  the  land,  when 
he  blasphemeth  the  name  of  the  Lord,  shall 
be  put  to  death." 

The  18th  chapter  of  Deuteronomy,  6th  to 
9th  verses,  contains  a  sad  proof  of  the  intol 
erance  and  inhumanity  prevailing  among 
"  God's  chosen  people." 

"  If  thy  brother,  the  eon  of  thy  mother,  or 
thy  son,  or  thy  daughter,  or  the  wife  of  thy 
bosom,  or  thy  friend  which  is  as  thine  own 
soul,  entice  thee  secretly,  saying,  Let  us  go 
and  serve  other  gods  which  thou  hast  not 
known,  thou  nor  thy  fathers ;  namely,  the 
gods  of  the  people  which  are  round  about 
you,  niurh  unto  thee,  or  far  off  from  thee,  from 
the  one  end  of  the  earth,  even  unto  the  other 


end  of  the  earth,  thou  shalt  not  consent 
unto  him  nor  hearken  unto  him ;  neither 
shall  thine  eye  pity  him.  neither  shalt  thou 
spare,  neither  shalt  thou  conceal  him.  But 
thou  shalt  surely  kill  him  ;  thy  hand  shall  be 
first  to  put  him  to  death,  and  afterward  the 
hand  of  nil  the  people."  Will  the  liberality 
of  the  nineteenth  century  accept  of  such  teach 
ing?  The  bloody  code  of  Draco  was  mildness 
in  comparison. 

The  "divine  law-giver,"  Moses,  also  incul 
cated  revenge  by  numerous  precepts,  as  in 
Deuteronomy,  19th  chapter,  21st  verse  :  "  And 
thine  eye  shall  not  pity  ;  but  life  shall  go  for 
!  life,  eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,  hand  for 
hand,  foot  for  foot." 

His  savage  treatment  of  enemies  was  most 
frightful.  In  the  7th  chapter,  2d  verse :  "  And 
when  the  Lord  thy  God  shall  deliver  them 
(their  enemies)  before  thee,  thou  shalt  smite 
them  and  utterly  destroy  them  ;  thou  shalt 
make  no  covenant  with  them,  nor  show  mercy 
unto  them." 

A  fearful  instance  of  butchery  by  the  com 
mand  of  Moses  is  given  in  Numbers,  31st  chap 
ter,  from  13th  verse.  The  Jewish  army  were 
sent  to  "  avenge"  themselves  of  the  Midiau 
ites  ;  to  effect  this,  they  slew  "  ALL  the  males," 
together  with  five  of  the  kings  of  Midian.  The 
women  and  children  were  taken  as  captives, 
their  cities  were  burnt,  aud  their  cattle,  flocks, 
and  goods  taken  as  spoil.  Upon  the  return 
of  these  chosen  avengers,  with  their  captives 
and  prey,  "  Moses  and  Eleazar  the  priest,  and 
all  the  princes  of  the  congregation,  went  forth 
to  meet  them  without  the  camp."  "  And 
Moses  was  wroth  with  the  officers  of  the  host, 
with  the  captains  over  thousands,  and  cap 
tains  over  hundreds  which  came  from  the 
battle." 

"  And  Moses  said  unto  them,  Have  ye  saved 
all  the  women  alive  V  "  Behold  these  caused 
the  children  of  Israel,  through  the  council  of 
Balaam,  to  commit  trespass  against  the  Lord 
in  the  matter  of  Peor,  aud  there  was  a  plague 
among  the  congregation  of  the  Lord." 

"  Now,  therefore,  kill  every  male  among  the 
little  ones,  and  kill  every  woman  that  hath 
known  man  by  lying  with  him :  but  all  the 
women  children  that  have  not  known  a  man 
by  lying  with  him,  keep  Mveforyourseli:i-s." 

Humanity  shudders  to  think  thai  such  an 
atrocious  command  could  be  given  bj  one  di 
vinely  appointed ;  yet  it  is  orthodox,  and 
meets  the  approval  of'  Christian  priests  unto 
the  present  day,  even  this  murder  and  de 
bauchery  ! 

The  Mosaic  account  of  the  creation,  and  the 
Mosaic  cosmogony  in  general,  are  singularly 
false,  leading  to  the  grossest  errors  and  ab 
surdities,  and  contradictory  to  well-established 
principles  of  modern  science.  In  this  account, 
it  is  said  that  light  was  created  on  the  first 
day;  that  grass,  herbs,  and  fruit  trees  were 
created  and  made  to  grow  on  the  third  day  ; 
while  the  SUN,  the  only  source  of  natural 
light,  and  the  great  agent  of  vegetation,  was 
not  made  until  the  fourth  day. 

Now,  there  could  not  have  been  an  evening, 
or  a  morning,  or  a  first,  second,  or  third  day. 
without  the  natural  revolution  of  the  earth , 


78 


EXETER   HALL. 


neither  could  there  have  been  any  vegetable 
growth,  to  cause  a  tree  to  grow  and  yield  seed, 
without  its  direct  influence. 

The  14th  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  Gen 
esis  says  :  "  And  God  said,  Let  there  be  lights 
in  the  firmament  of  heaven,  to  divide  the  day 
from  the  night,  and  let  them  be  for  signs,  and 
for  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  years." 

Yet  three  days  and  three  nights  had  al 
ready  passed  without  a  single  planetary  revo 
lution.  The  account  states  that  on  the  fourth 
day  the  stars  were  made  also,  merely  "  to  give 
light  upon  the  earth."  How  different  to  what 
astronomy  has  proved!  Sir  J.  Hergchel,  in  his 
philosophical  transactions,  proves  that  some  of 
the  nebulae  are  at  such  an  immense  distance 
from  the  earth  that  their  light,  traveling  at 
the  rate  of  200,000  miles  in  a  second  could 
not  have  reached  the  earth  in  less  than  about 
two  millions  of  years.  Later  discoveries  of 
Lord  Kosse  fully  corroborate  the  estimate,  and 
it  is  now  well  established  that  thousands  of 
stars,  which  Scripture  asserts  were  made  as  if 
but  "  to  give  light  upon  the  earth,"  are  in  re 
ality  SUNS  to  other  systems,  so  vast  as  to  re 
duce  our  solar  system,  by  comparison,  to  al 
most  insignificance. 

After  the  creation  of  fishes,  fowl,  and  great 
•whales  on  t\ie  fifth  day,  the  beginning  of  the 
sixth  day  was  devoted  to  the  production  of 
cattle,  creeping  things,  and  beasts  of  the 
earth  ;  and  then  God  said,  "  Let  us  make 
man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness,  and  let 
them  have  dominion,"  etc.,  etc.  The  plural 
number  is  introduced  into  this  verse  as  appli 
cable  to  both  God  and  man. 

So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in 
the  image  of  God  created  he  him  ;  male  and 
female,  created  he  them.  And  God  blessed 
them  ;  and  God  said  unto  them,  be  fruitful  and 
multiply,"  etc  ,  etc.  The  27th  verse  of  the 
first  chapter  of  Genesis,  above  recited,  declares 
in  positive  terms  that  God  created  man  male 
and  female  ;  and  this  is  confirmed  in  the  next 
verse,  when  they  were  blessed  and  bid  be  fruit 
ful.  It  is  evident  from  this,  that  God  was  ad 
dressing  Adam  and  his  wife,  whom  he  had  just 
created. 

The  30th  verse  states  :  "  And  to  every  beast 
of  the  earth,  and  to  every  fowl  of  the  air,  and 
to  every  thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth, 
wherein  there  is  life,  I  have  given  every  green 
herb  for  meat  ;  and  it  was  so."  This  is  direct 
ly  at  variance  with  what  is  known  of  the 
habits  of  animals  of  prey,  which  are  nearly  all 
carnivorous.  Naturalists  have  proved  that 
such  animals  can  only  exist  by  feeding  on 
flesh.  The  lion,  tiger,  wolf,  and  other  animals 
would  quickly  perish  if  left  to  the  sole  sus- 
tentation  of  green  herbs  for  the  text  includes 
every  animal. 

The  chapter  thus  concludes  :  "And  God  saw 
every  thing  that  he  had  made,  and  behold  it 
was  very  good.  And  the  evening  and  the  mor 
ning  were  the  sixth  day." 

The  second  chapter  begins  with  the  declara- 
tion :  "  Thus  the  heavens  and  earth  were 
finished,  and  all  the  host  of  them.  And  on  the 
seventh  day  God  ended  his  work  which  lie 
had  made,  and  he  rested  on  the  seventh  day 
from  all  his  work  which  lie  had  made."  The 
creation,  therefore,  was  finished  ;  God  had  pro 


nounced  every  thing  very  good,  and  rested  from 
his  labor. 

Great  surprise  has  been  manifested  by  many, 
anxious  to  believe  the  Scriptures,  that  the  plai'n 
statement  respecting  the  creation  of  man — 
male  and  female,  in  the  first  chapter,  should 
be  as  plainly  contradicted  in  the  second.  In 
this  latter  chapter,  we  are  told  that,  after  the 
creation,  God  "took  the  man  and  put  him  into 
the  garden  of  Eden,  to  dress  it  and  ke»-p  it ; 
but  at  the  same  time  forbade  him  to  eat  the 
fruit  of  one  particular  tree,  after  having  pre 
viously  told  him  that  every  tree  "  yielding 
seed"  should  be  to  him  "  for' meat."  And  the 
Lord  said,  "  It  is  not  good  that  the  man  should 
be  alone,,  I  will  make  him  an  helpmeet  for  him." 
A  deep  sleep  then  fell  upon  Adam,  aiid,  while 
in  that  state,  the  story  says :  "  that  one  of  his 
ribs  was  taken  out,  and  God  made  a  woman  of 
it"! 

From  this,  it  appears,  that,  although  in  the 
first  chapter,  God  made  man  male  and  female, 
and  even  addressed  them  as  in  the  text,  yet,  in 

•  the  next  chapter,  after  God  had  ended  his  work 
and  rested,  no  woman  had  been  created  until 
he  made  one  out  of  Adam's  rib !     A  tradition 
so  inconsistent  would  be  readily  treated  as  a 
myth  by  any  others  but  those  who  seem  deter- 

|  mined  to  believe  all  and  every  thing  included 
in  the  Bible. 

The  2d  verse  of  the  5th  chapter  of  Genesis  is 
confirmatory  of  the  firnt  account  of  the  crea 
tion  of  man  :  thus  "male  and  female  created 
he  them,  and  blessed  them,  and  he  called  their 
name  Adam"  in  the  day  when  they  were  created. 

Another  inconsistency  appears  as  to  the  sat 
isfaction  which  the  biblical  Creator  derived 
from  his  own  work.  The  first  chapter  of  the 
Bible  records  that  he  pronounced  every  thing 
he  had  made  very  good  ;  in  the  sixth  chapter, 
after  having  discovered  the  great  wickedness 
of  man,  the  record  says  :  "  And  it  repented  the 
Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it 
grieved  him  at  his  heart." 

Truly  the  prescience  and  omniscience  of  th« 
Mosaic  Deity  must  have  been  very  circum 
scribed  ;  and  his  instability,  his  repentance 
and  his  grief  like  unto  those  same  frailties  of 
mortals ! 

The  account  of  the  "  fall "  is  one  which 
hns  sorely  puzzled  the  best  and  wisest  "  di 
vines."  Adam,  whom  the  Lord  had  but  just 
pronounced  perfect,  falls  at  the  very  first  temp, 
tation,  and  his  posterity  are  unjustly  cursed 
and  degraded  by  the  commission  of  that  act. 

If  Adam  was  not  perfect,  it  seems  like 
trifling  with  human  infirmity  to  place  him  in 
such  a  position  as  to  be  unable  to  resist  the 
inducement  to  sin  ;  for  it  was  not  until  after 
he  had  committed  the  offense  that  he  was  able 
to  discern  between  good  and  evil. 

For  eating  this  apple,  Adam  was  expelled 
from  Paradise,  and  condemned  to  earn  liis 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  ;  his  wife  was 
cursed,  and  both  made  sinful  and  unhappy ; 

•  the  ground  was  cursed,  and  ordered  to  pro 
duce  thorns  and  thistles  ;  and  a  special  male 
diction  was  pronounced  aguinst  the  serpent : 
"  upon  thy  belly  thou  shalt  go,  and  dust  thou 
ehalt  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life." 

The  question  arises,  if  the  serpent  was  then 
cursed,  it  must  have  previously  had  seme  other 


EXETER    HALL. 


means  of  locomotion.  In  what  way  did  it 
travel,  as  serpents  were  never  known  to  have 
had  legs  ?  It  had  never  eaten  dust,  neither 
does  it  at  the  present  day.  The  whole  story 
has  been  pronounced  most  absurd,  and  com 
mentators  have  been  at  their  wits'  end  to  ren 
der  it  plausible,  or,  as  having  been  derived 
from  "inspiration." 

The  learned  expositor,  Dr.  Clarke,  has  sug 
gested  that  it  might  have  been  an  APE  that 
tempted  our  first  mother !  To  such  an  extrem 
ity  has  learning  and  intelligence  ever  been  re 
duced,  when  submitting  to  the  incongruities 
of  fiction. 

To  hide  the  nakedness  of  Adam  and  Eve, 
the  Lord,  it  is  said,  went  and  made  coats  of 
skins,  with  which  he  clothed  them  ! 

The  tradition  concerning  the  fall,  like  many 
others  in  the  Bible,  can  be  traced  to  the  legends 
of  a  more  ancient  people  than  the  Jews,  and  to 
an  antiquity  far  more  remote  than  any  record 
ed  in  Bible  history.* 

Among  other  curious  recitals  of  the  "  word 
of  truth"  is  that  of  the  2d  verse,  6th  chap 
ter  of  Genesis.  "  The  sons  of  God  (angels) 
saw  the  daughters  of  men  that  they  were  fair, 
and  they  took  them  wives  of  all  they  chose." 
Here  is  something  for  "  doctors  of  divinity." 
Angels  descending  to  wed  the  daughters  of 
men  !  The  Egyptians  and  Persians  have  alle 
gorized  the  same  doctrine,  and  Thomas  Moore 
has  founded  his  beautiful  poem,  The  Loves  of 
the  Angels,  on  such  an  idea. 

The  depravity  of  mankind  had  already  be 
come  so  great  that  the  Lord  determined  to 
rid  himself  of  them.  "  And  the  Lord  said  :  I 
will  destroy  man  whom  I  have  created  from 
the  face  of  the  earth,  both  man  and  beast, 
and  creeping  thing,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
for  it  repenteth  me  that  I  have  made  them," 
verse  7,  chap.  vi.  But  Noah  having  fortu 
nately  found  favor,  in  order  to  save  him  and 
his  family,  and  preserve  animal*  to  stock  the 
earth  anew,  the  Lord  commanded  him  to 
make  a  large  vessel  called  the  ark  ;  it  was  to 
be  about  540  feet  long,  90  feet  broad,  and  three 
stories  high — made  according  to  specific  direc 
tions  from  the  Deity— and  a  careful  estimate 
has  given  its  capacity  as  about  90,000  cubic 
yards.  •(• 

Noah  was  then  to  take  seven  of  every  kind 
of  bird,  male  and  female,  and  seven  also  of 
every  clean  beast ;  and  two  each  of  every 
other  kind  of  animal.  An  orthodox  authority 
gives  the  number  of  birds  of  all  kinds  at  8000. 
Seven  of  each  kind,  male  and  female,  would 
make  112,000  birds,  and  allowing  less  tlitm 
one  cubic  yard  to  each  bird,  they  alone  would 
more  than  fill  the  ark  ;  for  many  of  the  birds 
of  that  period  were  of  an  immense  size. 
There  are  1658  species  of  beasts,  two  of  each 
kind  would  be  3310  ;  but  then  there  are  10(5  of 


*  See  Note  F. 

t  As  to  the  materials  of  which  the  mythical  ark  of 
Scripture  was  composed,  learned  Christian  commen 
tators  have  formed  various  opinions.  Thus  our  mod 
ern  "authorized"  version  makes  it  gopher-wood;  On- 
kilhoe,  of  cedar.  The  Arabic  commentators  declare  it 
to  be  box-wood;  the  Persians, pine  wood.  The  cele 
brated  Bochart  declares  it  was  ebony;  Dr.  Geddes 
affirms  it  to  be  wicker  work ;  while  the  distinguished 
Christian,  Dawson,  contends  that  it  was  made  of  bul 
rushes  daubed  with  slime. 


these  clean  beasts  ;  and  seven  of  each  of  these 
make  1162;  making  in  all,  4478  beatts  large 
and  small.  Of  reptiles,  there  are  657.  multi 
plied  by  two,  gives  1314  ;  and  yet  further,  of  in 
sects  and  creeping  things  there  are  750,000 
various  kinds,  which,  doubled,  would  make 
over  one  and  a  half  millions!  An  important 
element  in  the  calculation  is  yet  to  be  consid 
ered.  Noah  was  required  to  put  into  the  ark 
sufficient  food  for  all  the  living  creatures  to  be 
taken.  But  even  to  supply  grass-eating  ani 
mals  alone,  numbering  about  2000,  the  ark 
itself  could  not  contain  the  quantity  requisite. 

Some  animals  would  require  flesh,  others 
fish,  others  grain,  others  fruit,  and  others 
insects.  How  was  it  possible  to  obtain  sup 
plies  for  all  these  ?  The  food  necessary  for 
ten  or  twelve  months  would  make  an  im 
mense  bulk,  far  beyond  the  capacity  of  the 
ark  ;  neither  could  even  a  vessel  of  its  size 
contain  the  indispensable  supply  of  water,  as 
the  ocean  of  the  flood  would  be  s-alt. 

Assuming  that  the  immense  collection  could 
be  cribbed  and  confined  within  the  ark,  the 
question  then  comes,  how  could  they  breathe? 
There  was  but  one  small  window  in  the  ark, 
which  was  closed ;  and  how  could  eight  per 
sons  only  attend  to  all  these  animals,  and 
supply  them  with  food  and  water?* 

But  whence  the  flood  itself?  The  mere  rain 
ing  of  forty  days  and  nights  would  be  com 
paratively  nothing  toward  it.  The  Andes 
are  supposed  to  be  20,000  feet  abo\  e  the  level 
of  the  sea  ;  the  vapors  of  the  atmosphere,  if 
condensed,  could  not  deluge  the  earth  to  the 
height  of  an  ordinary  house.  Modern  geolo 
gists  deny  that  there  ever  was,  or  ever  could 
be,  a  universal  deluge  ;  the  marine  shells  found 
on  the  tops  of  mountains  have  been  deposited 
by  changes  of  the  earth's  surface,  and  there 
is  proof  incontestable  that  these  changes  have 
been  produced  by  the  gradual  operation  of 
water  and  heat ;  Egyptologists  assert  that 
monuments  have  been  found  in  the  valley  of 
the  Nile  which  bear  evidence  of  having  been 
erected  at  a  period  long  before  that  assigned 
to  the  flood. 

This  part  of  the  Mosaic  history  has  been 
the  cause  of  much  embarrassment  to  profes 
sional  theologians  ;  numerous  explanatory  the 
ories  have  been  formed  but  to  confound  each 
other  ;  and  many  intelligent  Christians  have 
wished  that  such  a  record  had  never  existed. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Pye  Smith  admits  that — 
"  the  flood  could  not  be  universal,"  that  it 
could  not  have  "  resulted  in  the  destruction  of 
all  animal  life,"  and  "  that,  connecting  the 
question  with  physical  causes,  it  appeared  to 
him,  that  unless  we  resorted  to  miraculous 
agency  (against  which  he  protested)  it  was  im 
possible  to  imagine  the  ark  capable  of  con 
taining  parts  of  all  the  animals  whose  exist- 

*  Bishop  Wilkins  tries  to  get  rid  of  the  difficulty  by 
"  reducing  the  number  of  species  ,•"  but  the  19th  and 
remaining  verses  of  the  6th  chapter  of  Genesis  are 
conclusive  as  to  the  meaning  and  intention  of  the  an 
gry  Deity  according  to  his  "  Inspired  Word."  There 
was  to  have  been  two  saved  ol  every  sort,  of  every 
living  thing,  of  all  flesh — plain  enough  in  this  case  for 
a  "  wayfaring  man."  Assuming,  however,  that  there 
had  been  a  flood,  and  that  almost  every  living  thing 
on  land  had  been  destroyed,  the  deluge  could  not  have 
affected  the  inhabitants  of  the  "great  deep."— AU 
THOR. 


80 


EXETER    HALL. 


ence  must  depend  entirely  upon  their  exemp 
tion  from  inundation."  Then,  having  detailed 
the  great  variety  of  species  in  the  animal 
creation,  he  admits  the  impossibility  of  stow 
ing  them  in  the  ark. 

The  great  Dr.  Burnet  says  that  the  quan 
tity  of  water  it  would  take  to  cover  the  high 
est  mountains,  "  must  at  least  exceed  the  mag 
nitude  of  eight  oceans ;"'  that  no  sucli  quan 
tity  could  be  found,  CT,  if  found,  ever  remov 
ed,  and  that,  therefore,  "  our  present  earth 
was  not  subject  to  a  deluge,  nor  is  it  capable 
of  it  by  its  shape  or  elevation."  (Archeol.  Phi- 
los.  chapter  iv.  p.  40.) 

Scientific  evidence  bears  so  strongly  against 
the  theory  of  a  general  deluge  that  the  whole 
story  has  long  been  given  up  by  many  as 
being  the  issue  and  result  of  downright  ig 
norance. 

After  the  subsidence  of  the  flood,  the  Lord 
made  another  covenant,  and  promised  not  to 
destroy  the  earth  again  by  a  deluge,  and  "  set 
his  bow  in  the  cloud  for  a  token."  Again, 
science  confutes  this  rainbow  novelty,  and 
proves  that  there  has  always  been  rain  and 
sunshine,  and  that  the  rainbow  had  not  then 
appeared  in  the  heavens  for  the./?r*£  time. 

Passing  the  strange  relation  about  the 
tower  of  Babel,  and  the  confusion  of  tongues, 
the  discrepancies  in  the  accounts  of  how  Abra 
ham  made  his  wife  appear  as  his  sister,  we  find 
that  the  destruction  of  the  flood  having  failed 
in  its  expected  results,  the  Lord  appears  again 
as  a  destroyer.  He  visits  Abraham  in  his  tent 
upon  the  plains  of  Mamre  accompanied  by 
two  angels.  It  seems  his  foreknowledge  was 
at  fault ;  for  he  came  to  try  and  find  out 
whether  the  iniquity  of  Sodom  was  as  great 
as  had  been  represented.  "  I  will  go  down 
now,  and  see  whether  they  have  done  alto- 
together  according  to  the  cry  of  it  which  is 
come  unto  me ;  and  if  not,  I  will  know."  The 
Lord  and  his  heavenly  messengers  having 
had  their  feet  washed,  and  having  partaken  of 
refreshments — cakes,  butter,  milk,  and  veal — 
made  a  promise  to  Sarah,  then  a  very  old  wo 
man,  that  she  should  have  a  son  ;  and  one  to 
Abraham,  that  he  would  not  destroy  Sodom, 
provided  ten  righteous  persons  were  found  in 
it,  and  took  his  departure !  This  account  is  to 
be  found  in  the  18th  chapter  of  Genesis,  and 
portrays  tbe  Lord  and  his  attendants  in  every 
respect  as  very  like  ordinary  mortals. 

In  the  continuation  of  the  history  of  mur 
ders,  which  forms  such  a  large  portion  of  the 
Old  Testament,  the  10th  chapter  of  the  book 
of  Joshua  contains  a  record  of  that  great  mir 
acle,  the  standing  still  of  the  sun  and  moon. 
The  slaughter  of  the  nations  around  them 
•eems  to  have  been  a  favori-e  pastime  of  the 
"  chosen  people."  Joshua  was  their  leader 
after  Moses,  and  he  did  not  fail  to  indulge 
and  encourage  the  pious  recreation  of  exter 
minating  the  "  enemies  of  the  Lord." 

The  men  of  Gibeon  having  sent  for  aid  to 
Joshua,  against  the  Amorites,  he  went  out 
with  his  mighty  men  to  give  them  battle. 
There  were  five  kings  to  be  overcome  ;  but  the 
Lord,  as  usual,  promised  '•  his  people"  the  vic 
tory.  The  slaughter  c<  mmenced  at  Gibeon  ; 
and  as  the  poor  wretches  fled  for  their  lives, 
"  ihe  Lord  cast  down  great  atones  from  hea 


ven  upon  them,  unto  Azekah,  and  they  died." 
But  leet  the  day  should  not  be  long  enough 
to  complete  the  butchery,  then  spake  Joshua : 
Sun,  stand  thou  still  upcn  Gibeon,  and  thou, 
moon,  in  the  valley  of  Ajalon.  And  the 
sun  stood  still,  and  the  mcon  staid  until  the 
people  had  avenged  themselves  upon  their 
enemies.  Is  not  this  written  in  the  bcok  of 
JASIIER  ?  "  So  the  sun  stood  still  in  the  midst 
of  heaven,  and  hasted  not  to  go  down  about 
a  whole  dtiy." 

Had  such  an  event  ever  occurred  as  the  sud 
den  stopping  of  the  earth  in  its  swilt  revolu 
tion,  every  living  being,  and  every  work  of 
man  upon  its  surface  would  have  been  instant 
ly  destroyed ;  even  the  earth  itself  would  fly 
into  fragments.  Yet  it  is  known  that  there 
are  buildings  now  standing  in  Fgyj.t  erected 
before  the  alleged  time  of  Joshua.  Were  it 
possible  that  the  sun  or  moon  could  have  stood 
still,  such  an  extraordinary  event  would  have 
been  known  over  the  whole  world  ;  yet  neither 
in  China,  India,  Persia,  or  Egypt,  moie  ancient 
countries,  where  astronomy  was  studied,  is 
there  any  mention  made  of  it.  The  narrative 
was  never  penned  by  such  a  person  as  Joshua ; 
for  the  unknown  scribe  quotes  the  book  of 
JASHER  as  authority  to  corroborate  the  mi 
racle  !  This  book  of  Jasher  was  then  consider 
ed  as  one  of  the  "  inspired"  books,  and  as  it 
was  not  written  until  the  time  of  the  kings, 
centuries  after  the  death  of  Joishua,  he  coxild 
not  have  been  the  writer.  The  book  of  Jctsher, 
like  many  others  still  quoted  in  the  Bible,  has 
long  been  enumerated  among  the  lout  look*  of 
Scripture  ;  it  can  not  now  be  found. 

This  is  another  of  the  so-called  miracles  that 
theologians  would  be  gladly  rid  of.  There  is 
no  concurring  testimony  respecting  it.  In  bar 
barous  ages,  every  pretender  was  a  miracle- 
worker,  and  this  particular  one  has  been  foist 
ed  into  the  "  word  of  truth"  by  some  one  igno 
rant  of  the  first  principles  of  astronomy. 

The  whole  story  is  a  fable,  a  relic  of  seme 
ancient  myth,  on  which  are  founded  so  many 
of  the  Bible  miracles,  to  eclipte  science  and 
common  sense,  and  to  cast  a  shadow  over  rea 
eon  and  intelligence. 

As  a  further  proof  of  the  humane  disposition 
of  the  people  of  God,  the  story  continues,  that 
after  the  great  slaughter,  the  five  kings  \\ho 
had  taken  refuge  in  a  cave  weie  diagged  out 
by  order  of  Joshua.  He  said,  "  Come  near,  put 
your  feet  upon  the  necks  of  these  kings.  And 
they  came  near,  and  put  their  feet  upon  the 
necks  of  them."  "  And  afterward  Joshua  smote 
them,  and  slew  them,  and  hanged  them  on  five 
trees,  and  they  were  hanging  upon  the  trees 
until  the  evening." 

Not  satisfied  with  the  bloodshed  of  this 
notable  day,  he  went  on  smiting  ;  he  took  sev 
en  other  kings,  which  he  treated  to  the  same 
kind  of  death.  "  So  Joshua  tmote  all  the 
country  of  the  hills,  and  of  the  south,  and  of 
the  vale,  and  of  the  springs,  and  all  their 
kings:  he  left  ncne  remaining,  but  utterly 
destroyed  all  that  breathed,  as  the  Lord  God 
of  Israel  commanded." 

The  next  chapter  continues  the  fearful  rec 
ord  ;  even  the  poor  brutes  taken  Irom  the  ene 
my  were  gashed  and  JialMilWtg  by  order  of 
the  Lord  1  "  And  Joshua  did  unto  them  as 


EXETER    HALL. 


81 


the  Lord  bade  him ;  he  houghed  their  horses 
and  burnt  their  chariots  with  fire.  For  it  was 
of  the  Lord  to  harden  their  hearts,  that  they 
should  come  against  Israel  in  battle,  that  he 
might  destroy  them  utterly,  and  that  they 
might  have  no  favor,  but  that  he  might  de 
stroy  them,  as  the  Lord  commanded  Moses."* 
What  a  frightful  picture !  A  "  benevolent 
Deity"  deliberately  hardening  the  hearts  of 
creatures  whom  he  had  created  to  war  with 
others  to  whom  he  was  partial !  No  wonder 
that  these  cruel  tales  have  become  so  revolt 
ing,  and  that  humane  Christian  ministers  try 
to  avoid  reading  them  from  their  pulpits.  No 
wonder  that  more  missionaries  are  required, 
and  that  money  is  squandered  in  vain  at 
tempts  to  bind  down  humanity  and  generous 
impulses  to  such  "  truths  ;"  and  it  was  no  won 
der  that  Mr.  Capel,  while  he  dwelt  upon  such 
a  history  during  many  a  weary  night,  trying, 
like  many  others,  to  reconcile  himself  to  its 
belief,  was  tortured  by  dreams  in  uneasy  slum 
bers,  and,  on  awaking,  to  be  shamed  by  doubts, 
and — to  wish  himself  dead. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THIS  was  a  busy  week  at  Mrs.  Baker's,  a 
week  of  bustling  preparation.  Not  only  was 
there  to  be  the  regular  class  meeting  but 
there  was  also  to  be  a  prayer-meeting  every 
evening  during  the  week,  in  anticipation  of 
the  great  anniversary  at  Exeter  Hall.  These 
pious  sisters  were  like  light  skirmishers  in  a 
corps  of  volunteers,  determined  to  be  in  ad 
vance  of  all  others,  and  to  do  battle  as  it  were 
on  their  own  account  against  the  enemies  of  the 
Lord.  The  grand  object  of  this  special  attack 
was  to  gain  supplies  from  the  enemy ;  and 
the  Lord  was  to  be  importuned  to  loosen  the 
grasp  of  the  miser  upon  his  hoards,  the  rich 
man  upon  his  wealth  ;  and  high  and  low,  old 
and  young,  were  all  prayed  for  in  succession, 
so  that  abundance  might  flow  into  the  spirit 
ual  treasury,  and  that  the  Bible  might  be 
scattered,  thick  as  hail  in  a  storm,  among  de 
luded  Papists  and  blind  unbelievers. 

Then  after  these  little  sorties,  the  sisters  re 
tired  into  the  cheerful  parlor,  where  trifling 
chat,  the  rattle  of  tea-cups  and  the  fragrance 
of  young  Hyson  made  these  religious  meet 
ings  so  decidedly  agreeable. 

Apart  from  any  excellence  attributed  to  re 
ligion,  one  of  its  greatest  attractions  for 
woman  is  the  opportunity  it  affords  for  pleas 
ant  reunions  and  social  intercourse.  How  te 
dious  the  Sundays  would  pass  were  there  no 
place  to  go,  to  see  and  be  seen.  Christian,  or 
rather  intensely  Protestant  Christian  laws  and 
customs,  have  made  it  improper  and  unpopu 
lar,  even  sometimes  actually  criminal,  to  de 
vote  any  part  of  that  sombre  day  either  to 

*  Among  the  terrible  scenes  of  pious  butchery  re 
corded  of  "  God's  people,"  few  can  exceed  in  barbarity 
that  related  in  the  2d  Book  of  Kings,  chapter  xv. 
verse  16. 

"  Then  Menahem  smote  Tiphsah,  and  all  that  were 
therein,  and  the  coasts  thereof  from  Tirzah  :  because 
they  opened  not  to  him,  therefore  he  smote  it  ;  and 
all  the  women  therein  Mat,  v<s~t  with  "hUd  HB  KIPPED 

OP!" 


science,  secular  discussions,  or  convivial  meet 
ings.  The  ding  dong  of  bells  on  the  early 
Sabbath  has  a  reviving  effect  in  a  community 
thus  deprived ;  even  going  to  church  is  a 
relaxation.  Those  who  have  lived  apart  dur 
ing  the  week  have  now  a  chance  of  meeting 
some  old  friend — the  maiden  her  lover,  the 
youth  a  companion.  There  is  a  quiet  pleasure 
in  being  able  to  look  around  upon  an  orderly, 
well-dressed  assemblage  of  worshipers,  to 
see  a  display  of  fashion,  to  hear  fine  music, 
and  to  sit  in  somniferous  ease,  while  the  well- 
trained  minister  performs  in  peculiar  clerical 
tones  the  religious  service ;  which,  whether 
rendered  at  the  shrine  of  Moses,  or  Mohammed 
would  be  a  matter  of  indifference  to  many 
were  it  only  popular. 

To  woman,  religion  offers  free  scope  for  use 
fulness.  She  is  foolishly  debarred  from  inter 
ference  in  most  other  matters  ;  she  is  made  a 
child  in  intellect,  arid  denied  a  profession ;  she 
is  lampooned  in  politics,  and  ridiculed  as  a 
sage ;  and  though  the  church  ignores  her  as  a 
teacher,  yet  she  is  placed  on  an  equality  as  a 
co-worker  for  ita  support ;  and  to  her  powerful 
aid,  religion  in  every  land  is  indebted  for  its 
greatest  supplies,  and  for  its  numerous  adher 
ents. 

Mrs.  Manners  was  one  among  the  number 
who  went  heart  and  soul  into  the  work.  She 
was  a  believer  of  the  right  kind.  For  her, 
there  was  nothing  outside  Christianity  worth 
living  for ;  she  believed  that  she  had"  an  im 
portant  part  to  perform,  and  now  she  never 
felt  so  contented  as  when  actively  engaged  in 
some  religious  duty.  She  also  felt  that  while 
her  husband  was  without  the  ark  of  safety,  it 
behooved  her  to  redouble  her  ezertions  on  his 
account,  whereby  she  might  propitiate  God  in 
his  favor ;  for,  although  hopeful  of  his  conver 
sion,  she  would  relax  no  effort  until  it  was  ac 
complished. 

She  had  been  at  Mrs.  Baker's  all  the  week  ; 
she  took  but  little  interest,  in  her  house 
hold  affairs ;  every  night  she  had  a  spiritual 
dream,  and  every  day  she  formed  new  plans 
in  order  to  accomplish  the  conversion  of  sin 
ners  ;  and  now,  as  the  Bible  cause  was  about  to 
receive  a  fresh  impulse,  she  would  wait  for 
the  return  of  Mr.  Baker  and  Mr.  Capel,  and 
then  s  e  and  her  class-mates  in  a  body  would 
go  with  them  to  Exeter  Hall.  She  could  re 
main  from  home  safely,  for  she  could  depend 
upon  one  trusty  servant,  and  she  knew  that 
Miss  Manners  was  quite  competent  to  see 
after  the  wants  of  her  father  and  brother. 

Hannah  had  also  a  busy  week.  She  was  oc 
casionally  afflicted  with  a  mania  for  house- 
cleaning  ;  and  whenever  an  opportunity  offered, 
and  very  often  when  it  did  not,  she  would  up 
set  every  piece  of  furniture  in  the  house  ;  beds, 
bedding,«hairs,  tables,  bureaus,  and  cupboards 
would  be  put  outside,  and  one  passing  might 
imagine  that  the  tithe  proctor  was  going  Ids 
rounds,  or  that  there  was  to  be  a  hasty  removal 
Mr  Mannors  had  been  so  accustomed  to  this 
kind  of  thing  that  he  good-naturedly  submitted. 
and  let  Hannah  have  her  own  way.  Miss  Man 
nors  never  interfered,  for  she  knew  her  mother 
would  not ;  and  on  such  occasions,  while  Robert 
[jenerally  kept  out  of  the  way,  William  and 
Flounce  would  sit  in  a  corner  together,  \vatch 


82 


EXETER    HALL. 


'ng  the  proceedings  ;  or,  if  it  was  a  fine  day, 
would  perch  upon  some  elevation  in  the  sun 
light,  as  if  expecting1  that  after  the  last  piece 
of  furniture  was  thrown  out,  the  next  opera 
tion  would  be  the  pulling  down  of  the  whole 
house. 

Hannah  was  never  so  happy  as  she  seemed 
to  be  on  such  occasions.  She  acted  as  if  she 
had  full  control,  and  more  especially  in  the 
absence  of  Mrs.  Manners,  she  did  just  as  ske 
pleased,  quite  irrespective  of  the  inconvenience 
she  might  cause  ;  and,  while  tugging  at  some 
heavy  article,  or  striving  to  eject  some  stub 
born  piece  of  furniture,  or  while  scouring  away 
at  something  that  would  persist  in  looking 
black  or  brown  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  she 
would  sing  all  manner  of  hymns  that  she  could 
remember ;  and  if  her  memory  failed  her,  as  it 
often  did,  she  would  improvise  tunes  and 
words,  sometimes  very  irrelevant,  for  the  part 
that  was  wanting  ;  and  it  was  only  when  she 
was  forced  into  a  regular  breakdown  that  she 
would  pause  for  a  moment  or  two,  to  renew 
her  efforts,  or  commence  to  soliloquize  upon 
some  household  affair,  or  other  matter,  then 
more  particularly  on  her  mind. 

Now  Hannah,  though  somewhat  beyond 
maidenly  years,  that  is  to  say,  between  twenty- 
five  and  thirty,  was  yet  fresh,  and  rather  good 
looking.  Strange  to  say,  she  never  considered 
herself  a  beauty,  and  scarcely  ever  thought  of 
matrimony  ;  no,  not  since  she  left  her  dreams 
of  eighteen.  She  seemed  entirely  devoted  to 
her  mistress,  to  her  household  duties,  and  to 
John  Bunyan.  Now  and  then,  while  in  the 
very  midst  and  bustle  of  her  work,  with  mois 
tened  brow  and  sleeves  tucked  up.  she  would 
pause  for  a  moment,  and  steal  away  to  a  cer 
tain  corner  in  the  pantry,  to  take  a  peep  at  the 
object  of  her  thoughts.  There,  on  a  little 
shelf  close  to  a  small  window  lay  the  Pil 
grim's  Progress  ;  she  would  take  up  the  treas 
ured  book,  read  a  little  here  and  there,  turn 
the  pages  over  and  over,  and  seem  delighted 
with  the  engravings.  There  was  the  poor 
pilgrim,  heavily  laden  with  his  pack  between 
his  shoulders,  leaving  house,  wife,  and  chil 
dren  to  flee  from  the  "  City  of  Destruction." 
Then  he  was  seen  toiling  up  the  hill  toward  the 
little  "wicket  gate."  There  was  "  Vanity  Fair," 
"  Christian  and  Evangelist,"  and  other  such 
pictures  at  which  she  appeared  to  be  never 
tired  of  looking ;  and  she  would  gaze  in  admir- 
ration  at  the  plate  which  represented  the  Pil 
grim  with  his  heavy  pack  conversing  with 
"  Good  Will,"  at  the  arched  gate,  over  which 
was  written,  "  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you  ;"  while  on  a  tower,  at  one  side, 
could  be  seen  Beelzebub  with  bow  and  arrow, 
bat-like  wing,  and  crooked  forked  tail,  ready  to 
shoot  down  pilgrims  ere  they  entered,  or,  as  in 
the  words  of  Bunyan.  "  From  thence  both  he 
and  they  that  are  with  him  shoot  arrows  at 
those  that  come  up  to  the  gate,  if  happily  they 
may  die  before  they  enter  in." 

Thus  it  was  with  Hannah  ;  while  other 
damsels  similarly  situated  would  leisurely 
survey  their  good  looks  in  some  piece  of  look 
ing-glass,  privately  stowed  away,  she,  on  the 
contrary,  only  went  to  consult  her  favorite 
John  Bunyan.  Often,  when  she  was  in  the 
midst  of  such  a  turn-out,  Mr.  Mannors  with 


Mary  would  steal  on  tip-toe  and  watch  the 
operations  unobserved  from  behind  a  door,  or 
from  some  other  favorable  spot.  He  would 
humorously  say,  that  Hannah's  particular 
vice  was  that  of  scrubbing,  and  that  neither 
tin  pans,  nor  britannia  tea-pots  would  live 
out  half  their  days  through  the  scraping,  rub 
bing,  and  polishing  they  were  destined  to 
suffer  under  the  influence  of  her  restless 
arm. 

But  now  Hannah's  labors  for  the  week 
were  nearly  brought  to  a  close.  The  clean 
cages  and  fluttering  canaries  were  hung  up, 
pictures  were  replaced  ;  even  the  shining  brass 
pendulum  of  the  clock  in  the  hall  seemed  to 
look  laughingly  at  you  through  its  polished 
glass  casing,  while  it  swung  steadily  to  and 
fro,  as  if  determined  to  pull  up  for  lost  time. 
Things  were  getting  in  order ;  Mr.  Mannors 
might  venture  again  into  his  study,  and  Han 
nah,  still  watched  by  William,  could  be  seen 
manfully  backing  in  and  dragging  to  its 
place  the  great  heavy  kitchen  table,  that  one 
would  think  held  back  as  if  it  felt  inclined 
to  put  her  to  all  the  trouble  it  could. 

"  Well,  I  declare,  if  missus  was  here,  she'd 
make  that  good-for-nothing  Robert  help  me 
in  with  this.  He's — he's  always  away  when 
he's  wanting."  Then  she  put  an  air  to  this 
verse  of  Bunyan's : 

" '  What  danger  is  the  Pilgrim  in  !  how  manv  are  his 

foes! 
How  many  ways  there  are  to  sin  no  living  mortal 

knows : 
Some  in  the  ditch  spoiled  are,  yea,  can  die  tumbling 

in  the  mire ; 
Some,  though  they  shun  the  frying-pan,  do  leap  into 

the  fire.' 

Ah  me!  just  so;  foes  within  and  foes  with 
out  in  this  horrid  world. 

'  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear 
To  palaces  — ' 

Well,  I  ought  to  know  that  verse ;  but  our 
vile  nature  is  always  a  thinking  of  some 
thing  else. 

'  Hark  1  how  the  watchmen  cry ;  attend  the  trumpet's 

sound, 

Stand  to  your  arms  1  the  foe  is  nigh,  the  powers  of 
hell  surround.' 

Yes,  if  them  fallen  angels  couldn't  stand 
him,  how  can  we?  but — " 

"Hannah,  here  comes  Ma  and  Robert," 
said  Miss  Mannors,  entering  the  kitchen. 
Hannah  had  fortunately  got  through  with 
present  difficulties;  chairs,  tables,  and  cup 
boards  were  in  their  proper  places,  and 
seemed  to  rest  content  that  they  should  not 
get  such  another  overhauling  again  for  some 
time. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  missus,  how  glad  I  am 
that  you  are  back  ;  I  am  so  glad  you  did  not 
come"  until  I  got  over  my  hurry :  and  there 
goes  that  lazy  fellow,"  said  she,  as  she  saw 
Robert  driving  round  to  the  stable. 

"  Hannah,  poor  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Mannors,  ten 
derly,  as  she  looked  around  the  shining 
kitchen,  "  you  have  been  doing  too  much,  too 
much  entirely  ;  you  are,  I  am  afraid,  too  anx 
ious  about  these  trifling  matters  and — " 

"  Oh  1  not  at  all,  ma'am,"  broke  in  Hannah. 
"  Why,  we  were  getting  in  such  a  state  here 
that  I  was  ashamed  myself  to  look  at  th« 


EXETER    HALL. 


dust  and  cobwebs  ;  but  I  thought,  ma'am,  that 
you  were  going  to  wait  for  Mr.  Capel." 

•'  So  I  was,  Hannah  ;  but  we  iieard  to-day,  at 
Mrs.  Baker's,  that  he  was  going  to  call  here 
first  on  his  return  from  the  circuit,  and  I 
thought  I  would  be  home  to  meet  him." 

Mary  and  William,  and  Flounce  whisking 
his  bushy  tail,  now  followed  Mrs.  Manners 
from  room  to  room.  She  soon  encountered 
Mr.  Styles,  who  had  called  there  that  morning 
to  pay  a  short  visit,  and  Mr.  Manners,  to  in 
terest  his  wife,  told  her  tliat  their  visitor  had 
been  formerly  a  traveling  agent  for  the 
American  Bible  Society  ;  he  knew  that  Mr. 
Styles  could  give  her  a  great  deal  of  informa 
tion  about  the  state  and  prospects  of  religion 
in  America,  but  he  was  very  careful  for  the 
present  not  to  shock  her  by  relating  how  the 
same  person  had  fallen  away  from  his  first 
love. 

Mrs.  Manners  was  very  much  pleased  ;  she 
forgot  many  other  things  for  the  time,  and 
asked  fifty  different  questions  about  the  pro 
gress  of  Methodism  in  his  native  land ; 
whether  all  the  Indians  and  black  men  were 
converted,  and  whether  many  of  the  American 
saints  were  to  be  at  Exeter  Hall.  Samuel, 
having  learned  her  tendencies  from  Robert, 
was  careful  just  then  to  say  nothing  which 
might  cause  her  to  regret  his  presence  at 
Hampstead.  She  told  him  how  pleased  Mr. 
Capel  would  be  to  have  an  opportunity  of 
meeting  him — he  was  a  devoted  minister,  in 
whom  she  had  great  hopes.  And  then, 
best  of  all,  she  assured  Mr.  Styles  that,  as  he 
was  just  in  time  for  the  great  anniversary 
meeting,  he  would  learn  at  Exeter  Hall  what 
the  British  Christians  were  doing,  and  what 
sacrifices  were  annually  made  by  them  for  the 
circulation  of  the  "  Word,"  and  for  the  con 
version  of  poor  benighted  heathens — she,  of 
course,  meant  the  foreign  ones. 

During  that  quiet  forenoon,  Mr.  Manners 
and  Samuel  had  a  long  conversation  ;  various 
topics  were  introduced — the  merits  of  the  re 
spective  governments  of  Great  Britain  and  the 
United  States,  the  progressive  liberality  of 
ideas,  and  the  terrible  rule  of  priestcraft 
which  still  kept  its  icy  gripe  upon  the  gen 
erous  impulses  of  the  people  of  both  coun 
tries,  forcing  the  great  majority  yet  to  succumb 
to  the  puerilities  of  a  superstition  which 
would  have  been  long  since  effHe,  were  it  not 
for  the  constant  supplies  that  it  extorted. 
Samuel  related  the  evidence  he  had  at  the 
Bale  for  church  rates,  and  the  instance  of 
priestly  intolerance,  by  describing  the  scene 
at  the  cemetery.  Mr.  Manners  was  but  too 
familiar  with  such  acts  on  the  part  of  the 
state-paid  priests;  and  though  America  is  as 
yet  almost  free  from  such  gross  usurpation, 
Mill,,  even  in  the  new  world,  there  can  be  found 
occasional  instances  of  the  same  spirit,  one  of 
which  Samuel  remembered  to  have  taken 
place  at  a  churchyard  in  Pennsylvania.* 

Among  other  things,  he  was  particular  to 
give  Mr.  Mannors  a  more  detailed  account  of 
his  night  adventure  in  company  with  Robert. 
He  told  him  they  had  seen  Dr.  Buster  under 
the  archway,  how  they  had  followed  him  un- 

*  In  Chester. 


til  the  carriage  drove  away  after  midnight- 
and  when  he  handed  the  paper  which  he  be 
lieved  the  doctor  had  dropped,  Mr.  Mannors 
scrutinized  it  very  closely,  and  pronounced  the 
writing  to  be  Dr.  Buster's. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  with  a  slight  em 
phasis,  "  may  serve  as  an  important  clew  to 
his  transactions.  He  has  completely  evaded 
me  for  some  time ;  this  very  paper  may,  p«r 
haps,  enable  us  to  take  the  first  step  toward  a 
discovery.  Dr.  Buster  is  a  popular  man  in 
London,  but  he  shuns  rne ;  very  few  know  him 
,  as  I  do,  and  he  knows  me.  He  is  a  saint  to 
some,  while  in  truth,  a  monster  of  cruelty." 

"  I  saw  that  he  recognized  you  yesterday  on 
the  Strand,  I  kind  o'  think  you'll  not  forget 
the  heavenly  smile  he  gave  you." 

"  No,  not  readily  ;  it  IB  eeldorn  indeed  that  I 
can  get  an  opportunity  of  seeing  that  gentle 
man,  unless  I  choose  to  enter  his  church.  I 
never  did  the  man  any  haim,  but  I  believe  he 
is  a  tyrant,  and  will  yet  commit  some  diabol 
ical  act  if  he  is  not  legally  restrained,  or  hu 
manized  by  some  other  means." 

"Just  so,  or  b/  a  trifling  assistance  from 
brute  force." 

"  Well,  any  suitable  force,  or  any  proper 
means  that  will  prevent  him  from  accom 
plishing  his  purpose  might  almost  be  resorted 
to ;  I  have  learned,  partly  by  mere  chance  and 
partly  from  his  own  wife,  that  he  persecutes 
her,  hates  I  er,  and  will  soon  end  her  days,  un- 
less  she  finds  some  deliverance ;  and  this  I  fear 
he  will  manage  to  do  in  such  a  way  as  to  es 
cape  legal  responsibility." 

"  That  will  be  his  game.  But  he  must  be 
watched,  tracked,  circumvented,  and  finally 
squashed.  You  see  chance  is  against  him ;  it 
has  led  you  to  find  one  of  his  qualities,  it  has 
partly  shown  me  another,  and  I  want  no  bet 
ter  pastime  at  present  than  a  chance  to  follow 
him  up  until  I  can  tree  him  sky  high." 

"  Indeed,  I  think  you  will  be  an  excellent 
agent  for  that  purpose  ;  and  we  shall  try  and 
devise  some  plan  to  entrap  him,  for  I  have 
long  determined  to  step  between  him  and 
his  victim.  I  only  await  the  opportunity. 
We  have  a  wily,  unscrupulous  man  to  deal 
with,  and  must  be  very  guarded  in  our  ap 
proaches,  or  he  will  defeat  the  best  laid  plans. 
He  has  caused  it  to  lie  circulated  that  his  wife 
has  forsaken  her  children  and  himself;  there 
has  not  yet  been  a  trace  of  her  whereabouts, 
but  it  has  been  suspected  by  myself  and  a  few 
others,  that  the  unfortunate  woman  has  been 
deprived  of  her  liberty,  and  from  what  you 
have  lately  discovered  I  am  strongly  of  that 
opinion." 

"  Well,  we  came  upon  him  rather  close,  I  im 
agine  ;  he  an't  alone,  though — he's  got  bis 
tools,  male  and  female.  Now,  just  give  me 
the  credentials.  I  want  to  be  a  kind  of  walk 
ing  gentleman,  or  any  thing  else  that  comes 
handy,  for  a  month  or  two.  This  little  cir 
cumstance  interests  me  A  trifle;  just  put  me 
on  the  track,  and  I'm  off."  So  saying,  Mr. 
Styles  quickly  whisked  one  hand  across  the 
other,  as  if  to  illustrate  the  celerity  of  his  in 
tended  movements. 

"  I  stated,"  continued  Mr.  Mannors,  "  that 
the  first  knowledge  I  had  of  Dr.  Buster's  ill 
treatment  to  his  wife  was  by  chance.  About 


34 


EXETER    HALL. 


two  years  ago,  I  was  crossing  the  Bristol  Chan 
nel  in  a  steam  packet ;  it  was  during  a  fine 
summer's  night ;  several  of  the  passengers  re 
mained  on  deck  ;  but  as  it  grew  later,  one  by 
one  went  below,  until  I  thought  I  was  left 
alone.  The  air  was  delightfully  fresh.  I  felt 
no  inclination  for  sleep,  and,  having  paced  up 
and  down  for  some  time,  I  stretched  myself 
on  a  seat  or  bench  close  to  the  wheel-house 
and  was  trying  to  coirpose  myself,  when  I 
heard  a  discussion  between  two  persons  on  a 
religious  subject.  They  sat  or  stood  around 
a  corner,  out  of  my  view,  but  I  could  hear 
every  word  distinctly.  A  lady's  voice  asserted 
that  King  David,  of  the  Old  Tes'ament,  was, 
if  any  thing,  a  greater  monster  of  cruelty  and 
wickedness  than  either  Moses  or  Joshua  ;  and 
after  reciting  some  of  his  murders,  tieachery, 
and  misconduct,  declared  that  she  could  not 
believe  that  a  Supreme  Being  had  ever  con 
nived  at  such  infamy,  or  declared  that  such 
a  wretch  could  be  '  a  man  after  his  own 
heart.' 

"  A  man's  voice  testily  replied  that  such 
things  were  beyond  our  comprehension  ;  that 
we  must  take  the  account  as  we  found  it  in  the 
Bible.  It  was  inspired,  consequently  correct ; 
that  whether  David  repented  or  not,  God  could 
select  whom  he  pleased  to  work  out  his  de 
signs  ;  he  could  make  one  vessel  to  honor 
and  another  to  dishonor.  David  was  refer 
red  to  in  the  Scriptures  as  a  progenitor  of  the 
Messiah,  whose  coming  was  established  by 
prophecy.  Prophecy  was  the  thing  that  had 
spread  confusion  among  sneering  infidels. 

"  The  lady  contended  that  these  so-called 
prophecies  had  no  direct  reference  whatever 
to  a  Messiah,  and  that  even  such  a  conclusion 
had  been  formed  by  certain  commentators. 

The  man  then  replied  in  a  passionate  tone 
that  such  commentators  would  meet  damna 
tion,  and  all  who  believed  as  they  did.  He  then 
told  her  she  had  better  give  up  the  Bible  al 
together  ;  and  he  raised  his  voice  sufficiently 
loud  to  let  me  hear  imprecations  and  words  of 
anger,  and  then,  after  the  lady  had  made 
some  reply,  I  was  startled  by  the  noise  of  a 
heavy  fall  on  the  deck,  and  I  ran  to  the  spot 
in  time  to  see  the  stout  form  of  a  man  descend 
the  cabin  stairs  and  to  assist  in  raising  the 
lady,  who  had  evidently  been  thrust  off  her 
feet.  She  was  bleeding  and  was  partly  con 
fused,  and  she  looked  around  and  at  me  as  if 
greatly  ashamed.  I  assured  her  that  I  was 
the  only  person  that  knew  any  thing  of  the 
matter,  that  I  had  overheard  the  conversation 
which  led  to  such  violence,  and  after  having  as 
sisted  her  to  a  Beat,  begged  her  to  allow  me 
to  get  some  water  to  wash  away  the  blood. 
She  thankfully  declined,  she  was  anxious  to 
retire  unseen,  and,  folding  a  shawl  over  her 
face,  permitted  me  to  lead  her  as  far  as  the 
cabin  stairs.  In  about  two  or  three  minutes 
afterward,  the  same  stout  person  came  on  deck 
again,  and,  when  he  paw  me,  was,  no  doubt, 
suspicious  that  I  had  witnessed  his  unmanly 
act.  I  stood  near  and  watched  him,  and  my 
indignation  at  his  conduct  was  so  great  that  I 
could  not  refrain  from  telling  him  that  he 
ought  to  be  punished  for  what  he  had  done, 
and  that  I  would  inform  the  captain  before 


we  left  the  vessel.  It  was  sufficiently  light 
to  enable  me  to  see  his  features ;  he  made  no 
reply,  but  gave  me  one  angry  look  and  went 
quickly  away. 

"  Upon  inquiry  next  morning,  I  learned  that 
the  person  whom  I  recognized  as  the  probable 
aggressor  was  one  Dr.  Buster,  and  that  the 
lady  was  his  wife.  On  her  account,  I  did  not 
think  it  prudent  to  mention  any  thing  about 
the  violent  act  which  I  was  satisfied  he  had 
committed.  I  saw  that  he  tried  to  avoid  me, 
but  when  we  arrived  in  London  I  stood  at  the 
ship's  side  and  watched  him  pass  out ;  he 
recognized  me  and  frowned,  and  as  he  strode 
hurriedly  away  he  left  his  wife  to  follow  as 
best  she  could. 

"  It  was  some  months  afterward,  and  I  had 
almost  forgotten  the  circumstance,  when  I 
happened  to  read  in  one  of  the  numerous  re 
ligious  papers  of  the  city  that  a  course  of 
lectures  on  the  Apocalypse  and  on  the  prophe 
cies  of  Daniel  were  to  be  delivered  by  a  cer 
tain  Dr.  Buster.  The  paper  lauded  his  piety 
and  ability  in  the  highest  terms.  The  name 
recalled  the  circumstance  on  the  vessel,  and, 
curious  to  learn  whether  it  was  the  same  per 
son,  I  went  to  town  and  purchased  a  ticket — 
it  was  not  a  free  lecture ;  and  as  I  loitered 
outside  the  church-door,  a  carriage  drove  up, 
out  of  which  stepped  the  identical  doctor  that 
I  expected.  He  looked  me  full  in  the  face  ;  I 
saw  a  change  of  expression  ;  but  he  passed  in, 
determined  not  to  know  me,  or  to  make  me 
believe  that  it  must  have  been  some  one 
else — that  he  could  do  nothing  derogatory  to 
his  character  as  a  minister.  1  was,  however, 
satisfied,  and  did  not  remain  to  hear  the  lec 
ture. 

"  You  might  have  heard  at  the  Red  Lion 
that  there  are  a  very  great  number  of  Secularists 
in  and  about  London.  I  profess  to  be  one  of 
that  class  ;  we  have  several  halls  and  lecture- 
rooms  in  which  religious  and  utilitarian  sub 
jects  are  freely  discussed  in  an  orderly  man 
ner.  These  discussions  have  been  productive 
of  great  benefit,  and  many  church-members 
and  other  persons,  troubled  with  religious 
doubts,  or  curious  to  learn  our  particular 
views,  attend  such  meetings  ;  sometimes 
privately,  in  order  to  hear  our  objections 
against  Christianity,  occasionally  to  try  and 
refute  them,  and  to  a-certain  what,  we  think 
on  relative  subjects  ;  for  of  course  you  are 
aware,  that  so  careful  are  the  priests  of  their 
creed,  in  such  dread  do  they  hold  free  investi 
gation,  that  books  written  against  them  or 
their  faith  are  denounced,  and  their  authors 
calumniated.  Among  the  many  who  attended, 
there  was  one  lady  who  appeared  anxious  to 
remain  unknown,  and  she  might  have  done  so 
were  it  not  that  she  was  recognized  one  even 
ing  leaving  the  hall  by  some  devout  church- 
members  who  were  watching  outside,  for  the 
pur]K>se  of  discovering  who  were  falling 
away  and  proving  recreant  to  the  faith. 
Great  was  the  surprise  when  it  was  learned 
that  the  lady  was  the  wife  of  one  of  theprinci 
pal  dissenting  ministers  of  the  city,  and  true 
to  their  mission,  the  orthodox  detectives  made 
an  immediate  report  to  her  husband  ;  and  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Buster  appeared  to  be  greatly  de- 


EXETER    HALL. 


85 


pressed ,  greatly  humiliated,  and  in  deep  af 
fliction  by  this  woeful  proof  of  his  wife's  reli 
gious  degeneracy. 

"As  for  her.  she  had  been  long  suspected  of 
indifference  to  church  matters.  Church-going 
ladies  said  she  was  not  like  a  minister's  wife  ; 
she  was  never  seen  at  prayer-meetings,  never 
at  Sunday-schools,  was  no  tractarian,  did  not 
get  up  missionary  tea-meetings,  or,  in  fact, 
interest  herself  in  any  of  the  numerous  devices 
for  raising  money  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel, 
or  to  increase  the  slender  resources  of  her 
pious  husband.  She  was  known  to  be  studi 
ous  and  thoughtful,  of  an  inquiring  mind,  and 
very  benevolent  to  such  needy  applicants  as 
craved  more  for  actual  food  than  they  did  for 
the  scriptural  '  bread  of  life.' 

"  In  her  domestic  capacity,  she  could  not  be 
excelled.  She  had  two  children,  and  proved 
herself  a  most  affectionate  mother ;  but  alas  1 
her  want  of  faith  had  robbed  her  of  any  love 
her  husband  might  have  had  for  her,  and 
though  affecting  before  members  of  his  church 
to  be  most  considerate  toward  her,  it  was 
well  known  that  his  dislike  grew  stronger  and 
stronger,  until  at  last  his  hatred  made  her  | 
life  miserable.  It  was  then  rumored  that  her 
mind  was  affected  ;  insanity  could  be  traced  in 
her  family  ;  for  the  idea  was  considered  most 
absurd,  to  suppose  that  a  person  religiously 
brought  up  as  she  had  been,  carefully  trained 
in  youth,  and  then  daily  and  hourly  the  reci 
pient  of  spiritual  knowledge  under  the  teach 
ing  ol  such  a  husband,  could  ever  possibly  be 
come  skeptical  while  under  the  guidance  of  a 
sound  mind. 

"  There  would  be  no  great  difficulty  in  tra 
cing  the  authorship  of  such  a  reputed  mental 
frailty.  In  deference  to  the  feelings  of  the 
reverend  doctor,  the  rumor  was  charitably  ac 
cepted  as  truth,  but  alas  !  how  uncharitably  for 
his  wife.  She  well  knew  that  this  subterfuge, 
if  not  counteracted,  would  accomplish  her 
ruin  ;  and  as  week  after  week  passed,  when 
she  found  herself  neglected,  spurned,  and 
treated  with  contempt,  she  was  almost  on  the' 
verge  of  despair.  She  knew  there  was  but 
little  if  any  sympathy  for  unbelievers  among 
the  positive  class  of  Christians  which  were  un- 


whom  I  had  so  singularly  met  on  the  steam 
boat.  She  would  not  have  recognized  me 
from  that  circumstance,  but  when  I  mentioned 
it,  she  again  expressed  her  thanks,  and  told 
me  that  the  treatment  which  she  had  then  re 
ceived  was  but  the  commencement  of  far 
worse  outrages;  that  not  only  was  she  abused 
herself,  but,  to  add  to  her  agony,  her  husband 
would  threaten  and  terrify  the  children,  until 
they  actually  dreaded  his  approach.  She  said 
it  was  evident  that  he  wished  to  make  her  out 
insane,  and  unfit  to  be  left  without  some  re 
straint.  He  had  already  sent  the  children 
away,  and  she  had  good  reason  to  fear  that 
some  evil  toward  herself  was  premeditated. 

"  I  gave  her  the  best  advice  I  could  at  the 
time,  told  her  if  any  further  violence  was 
committed,  or  any  probability  of  such,  to 
make  her  escape  at  once  ;  that  I  would  leave 
word  with  John  Hollis,  at  the  Red  Lion,  to 
take  her  under  his  protection,  until  he  could 
send  for  me ;  and  that  afterward  I  would  use 
every  possible  method  to  secure  her  from  mo 
lestation.  She  was  very  grateful.  I  told  her 
that  before  I  went  home  I  would  consult  some 
friends,  and  write  to  her  more  fully  next  day, 
and  that  I  would  meet  her  again  in  a  week  ; 
but  if  any  thing  happened  in  the  mean  time, 
she  was  to  do  as  I  had  directed. 

"  I  called  on  the  landlord  of  the  Red  Lion 
the  same  evening,  and  had  every  thing  arran 
ged.  I  also  met  a  few  friends  in  town,  and 
related  as  much  of  the  matter  as  was  neces 
sary  to  enlist  their  protection  in  case  it  should 
be  required.  Next  day  I  sent  her  another  let 
ter,  and,  at  the  appointed  time  when  I  called 
again,  instead  of  meeting  the  doctor's  wife, 
I  actually  met  the  doctor  himself!" 

"  A  very  agreeable  surprise,  no  doubt,"  said 
Samuel. 

"  Not  so  agreeable  as  I  could  have  desired. 
With  the  coolest  assurance  he  told  me  that  I 
had  brought  a  scandal  upon  the  once  fair 
name  of  his  wife,  that  my  vile  teaching  had 
corrupted  her  mind,  and  that  he  supposed  she 
had  already  taken  refuge  in  that  very  respec 
table  rendezvous,  the  Red  Lion,  in  accordance 
with  my  letter  of  instructions ;  and  here  to 
my  surprise  he  coolly  unfolded  the  letter,  and 


der  her  husband's  control,  that  at  best  she  I  saw  my  own  signature." 
would  be  treated  as  a  kind  of  monomaniac,  "  I  took  a  moment  for  reflection  ;  I  supposed 
when  she  bethought  of  the  secularists ;  she  that  both  she  and  I  had  been  betrayed.  The 
had  heard  of  my  name  in  connection  with  woman  in  whose  house  we  were,  and  who  was 
that  organization,  and  I  received  through  the  I  present  during  my  interview  with  the  doc- 


post  this  letter."     Hare  Mr.  Manners  took  a 
letter  from  a  small  drawer,  and  read  : 

" '  DEAR  SIR  :  One  who  is  greatly  persecu 
ted  on  account  of  her  religious  opinions,  and  i  that.  I  had  but  two  interviews  with  his  wife 


tor's  wife,  was  now  absent,  and  I  felt  some 
what  embarrassed  by  the  awkwardness  of  my 
position.  I,  however,  replied  that  he  must 
know  he  was  stating  what  was  not  correct , 


who  fears  actual  violence,  would  wish  to  con 
sult  with  you.     An  interview  is  particularly 


in  the  course  of  my  life — the  first  on  board 
the  Bristol  packet  when  he  had  abused  her, 


desired.     A  letter  addressed  to  E.  C.  M.,  82    the  last  but  a  week  ago  in  that  room.     When 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  will  reach  me.  I  mentioned  that  he  had  abused,  or  had  struck 

P.S. — If  convenient,  an  interview  on  Thurs 
day  next,  between  two  and  five  P.M.,  would 


be  most  suitable  for  me. 
"'June  17th." 


A  FKIEND. 


"  I  sent  a  reply,  I  think  the  same  evening  ; 
and  on  the  following  Thursday  I  met  her  at 
the  house  of  a  private  friend,  and  I  was  sur 
prised  to  find  that  she  was  the  very  person 


his  wife,  he  jumped  up  and  violently  exclaimed 
while  holding  his  shut  fist  before  me  in  a 
threatening  attitude,  "  It's  false,  it's  false,  you 
never  saw  me  do  it." 

"  '  Well,  sir,'  said  I, '  if  I  did  not  see  you  do  it, 
I  heard  something  of  your  violence,  and  I  after- 
ward  saw  the  effects  of  your  mode  of  argu 
ment,  and  I  now  believe  that  you  intend  to 
follow  up  that  particular  method  of  combating 


86 


EXETER     HALL. 


error  by  persecuting  one  whom  you  should 
cherish.' 

"  '  See  here,'  said  he,  holding  out  my  letter 
at  arm's  length, '  I  possess  in  this  damning  evi 
dence  against  your  principles  of  honor.  If  you 
dare  to  deal  in  vile  misrepresentations,  I  have 
this  fact  to  refute  your  assertions,  and  your 
honored  name  subscribed  in  attestation.  Now, 
proceed  if  you  dare.' 

"  His  teeth  were  clinched  fast  when  he  utter 
ed  these  words,  and  as  he  waved  the  letter 
violently  before  me,  he  looked  like  one  of 
Milton's  fallen  angels,  or  the  impersonation 
of  Satan  himself. 

" '  I  know  not  what  your  threat  means,'  I  re 
plied,  '  nor  how  you  may  distort  the  meaning 
of  that  letter ;  but  remember,  you  will  yet  be 
held  responsible  for  the  crime  you  are  about 
to  commit ;  or,  if  the  act  has  been  already  per 
petrated,  there  may  be  sufficient  evidence  to 
test  your  religious  scruples  in  a  court  of  law.' 

*' '  You  talk  of  religion  or  law,'  said  he, 
giving  the  mock  laugh  of  a  fury,  while  his 
eyes  seemed  like  skulking  fiends  ready  with 
some  fulminating  substance  for  my  annihila 
tion.  '  You,  with  an  infidel  heart  and  body 
without  a  soul,  you  talk  about  crime  !  Go,' 
said  he,  pointing  to  the  door,  '  go  and  teach 
virtue  to  the  wretch  who  has  sought  your  pro 
tection,  teach  her  more  of  your  infernal  prin 
ciples,  until  she  is  fit  to  graduate  among  a  class 
of  Tom  Paines,  and  Voltaires  and  Boling- 
brokes,  and  like  them,  die  in  the  pangs  of 
remorse,  and  meet  with  their  final  damna 
tion.' 

"  If  his  curses  were  blessings  in  disguise,  they 
could  not  be  more  harmless  so  far  as  I  was  con 
cerned.  I  saw  what  he  was  drifting  at,  he 
wished  to  make  me  think  that  his  wife  had 
left  her  home,  and  that  he  believed  she  was 
under  my  protection.  Before  I  went  out,  I 
told  him  that  I  was  not  deceived,  that  I  well 
understood  his  object,  and  that  there  might 
be  a  reckoning  between  us  at  some  future 
day. 

"  How  he  became  possessed  of  my  letter,  I 
know  not.  Unfortunately,  I  did  not  keep  a 
copy  of  it,  it  was  written  in  haste,  but'  I  am 
not  aware  that  there  was  any  thing  in  it  that 
could  compromise  me.  I  think  I  recommend 
ed  her  to  leave  her  prison-like  home  for'a  time, 
and  that  I  woxild  see  that  she  had  suitable 
protection  from  the  designs  of  her  husband. 

"  Something  must  have  happened  to  her ;  I 
never  heard  from  her  afterward.  Since  that 
time,  it  has  been  circulated  that  she  left  her 
husband  and  children.  Inquiry  was  made  for 
her  among  her  relatives  in  Bristol,  and  search 
was  made  at  other  places,  but  no  trace  of  her 
could  be  found.  As  she  had  sufficient  means 
of  her  own,  some  of  the  pious  ladies  and 
members  of  her  husband's  congregation  sup 
pose  that  she  is  living  privately  witli  some 
friends,  or  perhaps  among  the  Secularists  ; 
while  many,  outside  the  pale  of  the  doctor's 
influence,  think  that  he  has  her  securely  un 
der  lock  and  key,  either  to  shorten  her  exis 
tence,  or  force  her  to  abjure  the  errors  of  an 
unbelief  which  has  brought  so  much  misery 
to  her,  but  which  has  gained  so  many  prayers, 
and  so  much  sympathy  for  him. 

"  I  did  not  see  the  doctor  afterward  until  i  he 


day  we  encountered  each  other  on  the  Strand 
you  were  a  witness  of  that  friendly  recogni 
tion.  If  I  ever  meet  him  again,  it  may  be  ic 
assist  in  convicting  him  of  such  inhumani 
ty  as  will  truly  exhibit  the  meaning  of  hia 
piety  to  the  world." 

'•  Guess  I'll  try  and  meet  him  again,"  said 
Mr.  Styles;  "  I  tracked  him  once  in  the  rain 
and  dark,  but  it  didn't  amount  to  much.  I'll 
try  him  again,  and  see  if  I  can't  trot  him  out 
in  broad  daylight,  so  that  his  admiring  female 
saints,  when  they  see  his  elegant  qualities  in 
perfection,  may  wish  him  away  up  out  of 
sight,  with  Elijah  ;  or  up,  or  down,  or  any 
where  else,  but  in  the  velvet-cushioned  pul 
pits  they  made  so  soft  for  him  in  the  Presby 
terian  churches  of  London." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE  evening  sun  sent  its  red  beams  slant 
ing  down  upon  Hampstead,  and  nearly 
every  window  in  Heath  Cottage  blazed  in  the 
ruddy  light.  Troops  of  children  were  at  play 
by  the  roadside,  and  workmen,  after  having 
partaken  of  their  frugal  meal,  sat  each  by  his 
open  door  in  the  sunset,  enjoying  that  calm 
hour  after  the  labors  of  the  day.  Lowing 
cattle  in  the  distant  fields  could  be  seen  wind 
ing  homeward,  followed  here  and  there  by 
cheerful  milkmaids  carrying  their  white  pails 
while  humming  some  favorite  air  as  they  went 
along.  A  thousand  birds  sung  and  fluttered 
in  gardens  and  among  orchard  blossoms,  and 
the  mellow  notes  of  the  thrush,  and  robin 
could  be  heard,  as  if  bidding  farewell  to  the 
fading  day. 

It  was  a  calm  hour,  one  which  predisposes 
for  rest  or  for  soothing  thought.  At  such  a 
season,  even  care  seems  to  loosen  its  hold,  and, 
under  the  milder  influence,  the  heart  which 
has  long  been  burdened  with  sorrow  dreams 
of  hope  again.  In  the  tender  light  of  eve, 
memory  loves  to  wander  back  once  more  to 
the  mountain,  or  stream,  or  green  field  of 
youth,  and  the  faces  and  smiles  of  friends  of 
earlier  years  return  again  to  greet  us. 

Looking  down  upon  Hampstead — as  Mr. 
Capel  now  was  from  the  brow  of  a  small  hill 
which  he  had  just  ascended — one  might  have 
lingered  a  moment  or  two,  as  he  did,  to 
survey  the  rich  landscape  spread  out  before 
him.  The  view  obtained  was  very  attractive, 
and  while  musing  upon  the  variety  of  com 
binations  which  formed  the  natural  picture, 
the  young  preacher  forgot  temporary  troubles, 
and  his  memory  also  wandered — but  not  to  a 
very  remote  period — neither  was  his  fancy 
as  excursive  as  at  other  t  mes.  He  glanced 
at  the  village  church  with  its  ivied  walls, 
glowing  windows,  and  old  gray  steeple  ;  at 
houses  and  gardens,  fields  and  mansions ; 
at  the  shadows  on  the  distant  hills,  and  then 
back  again  to  Heath  Cottage,  where  his  eyes 
remained  fixed.  He  could  gaze  without 
tiring  on  that  quiet  spot ;  it  was  the  principal 
object  in  the  picture  to  him,  and,  while  thus 
looking,  he  thought  of  its  inmates,  and  of 
their  different  characters  ;  of  the  credulous 
visionary,  Mrs.  Manners,  of  her  generous, 


EXETER    HALL. 


87 


noble-minded  husband,  and  of  one  other,  to 
whom  his  thoughts  would  stray  even  while 
he  tried  to  keep  them  confined  to  the  mental 
problems  which  often  kept  him  restless  and 
wavering.  He  could  not  but  admit  that 
were  all  the  matrons  to  become  like  Mrs. 
Manners,  there  would  be  a  sad  retrogression — 
ghe  could  now  boast  of  having  become  more 
alienated  from  the  world,  and  it  was  evident 
that  her  worldly  affairs,  as  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  were  to  be  allowed  to  take  care  of 
themsel  ves.  W hat  a  contrast  between  her  and 
tlie  reasoning  utilitarian,  Martin  Manners! 
It  was  his  desire  so  to  improve  matters  in  this 
sublunary  si  ate  as  to  make  every  human  be- 
insr  as  happy  as  possible.  Were  there  more 
of  his  kind,  the  query  arose,  whether  man  kind 
would  or  would  not  be  better  prepared  for  a 
futui  e  existence  than  they  are  now,  under  the 
influence  of  a  class  who  formally  denounce 
"  pomps  and  vanities,"  but  beneath  whose 
sway  for  centuries  crime  has  so  increased,  and 
human  misery  become  so  extended.  And  then 
he  thought,  were  the  "  angels  of  light "  as 
pure  and  noble  and  as  disinterested  as  the 
angel  within  that  dwelling  (but  he  shrunk 
from  the  profane  idea)  that  heaven  would  be 
more  worthy  of  his  aspirations. 

"  Begorra !  Harry,  but  you're  in  a  brown 
study,"  said  a  friendly  voice,  almost  at  his 
elbow.  "  Faith,  if  preaching  adds  such  a 
lamblike  expression  to  your  countenance,  you 
may  expect  it  to  approach  downright  sheepish- 
ness  by  the  time  you're  fit  for  the  apostolic 
Swaddlers  to  lay  hands  upon  you." 

Mr.  Capel  turned  suddenly  round,  and  was 
surprised  to  see  his  old  friend,  the  Rev.  Father 
Thomas  McGlinn,  with  his  cheerful  red  face, 
sitting  in  a  gig,  surveying  him  from  head  to 
foot,  while  a  good-natured  smile  lit  up  his 
jovial  countenance. 

"  Why  Father  Tom,  I'm  very,  very  glad  to 
see  you." 

"  I  know  you  are,  Harry,  but  you  blush  like 
a  girl.  Sure,  you  don't  mind  what  I  say.  I'd 
blush  too,  1  think,  if  I  had  such  a  pair  of  sad 
dle  bags  dangling  behind  me.  Barring  them 
things,  you  put  me  a  good  deal  in  mind  of 
your  p  >or  father,  God  rest  his  sowl !" 

"Amen,  Father  Tom.  I  know  you  and  he 
were  great  friends,  and  I  often  wished  to  see 
you.  I  went  down  the  other  day  to  find  you, 
but  I  heard  you  had  gone  over  to  Ireland  for 
a  few  days.  I  was  so  sorry  I  didn't  know  of 
your  intention  sooner." 

"  Faith,  I  wish  you  had,  but,  I  went  off  in  a 
hurry.  I  got  a  letter  stating  that  poor  Billy 
Doolan  of  Blackpool  was  in  the  last  stage  of 
consumption — you  knew  my  cousin  Billy — 
and  sure  the  divil  a  one  but  my  own  four 
bones  would  do  him  to  administer  Extreme 
Unction  to  him ;  well,  if  it  did  the  poor 
crayther  any  good,  I  don't  begrudge  the 
trouble." 

'"  I  knew  poor  Billy  well,  and  am  glad  you 
went  to  see  him  ;  it  was  just  like  what  you 
would  do.  Father  Tom ;  but  you  can  scarcely 
doubt  the  efficacy  of  your  own  rites  ?"  said 
Mr.  Capel,  looking  with  affected  surprise." 

"  Oh  !  no,  oh  !  no,  not  the.least,"  said  Father 
McGlinn,  giving  a    slight  cough,  while   the  j 
lips  of  his  cheeks  became  if  possible  a  little  \ 


redder  than  usual.  "  You  know  I  sometimes 
talk  at  random,  Harry ;  your  poor  father  knew 
that.  There's  but  one  true  church,  and  what 
ever  she  directs  is  right."  He  spoke  these 
words  in  such  a  manner  as  if  intended  to  reas 
sure  himself.  "  But,  Harry,  different  as  our 
creeds  or  calling  may  be,  you  and  1  must  never 
discuss  religion.  There  was  a  solemn  agree 
ment  of  the  same  kind  between  your  father  and 
myself,  and,  faith,  it  worked  well — anyhow  he 
didn't  bother  his  brains  much  about  hell  or 
heaven  or  purgatory,  and  God  knows  I  wish 
we  had  more  like  him." 

"I  wish  there  were  more  like  him,  I  wish 
there  were,  Father  Tom.  I  think  of  him  now 
oftener  than  ever,  and  oh  !  how  I  many  a  time 
have  wished  that  some  Christian  men  and 
ministers  had  even  the  hearts  of  so-called 
pagans,  what  a  gain  it  would  be  for  humani 
ty  1"  Mr.  Capel's  eyes  almost  filled  with  tears 
as  he  said  this,  and  Father  McGlinn  stared  at 
him  a  moment  or  two  in  evident  surprise. 

' "  'Pon  my  sowl,  Harry,  but  that  smacks  a 
good  deal  of  your  father ;  you've  got  his 
features,  and  I  think  you're  rising  to  his  ideas. 
Go  on  that  way  a  little  longer,  amck,  and 
you'll  know  something  of  the  Bull  in  cosna 
Domini,  at  least  the  Methodist  interpretation 
of  it.  But  tell  me,  Harry,"  continued  the 
priest,  in  a  tone  of  great  kindness,  "  do  they 
use  you  well  ?  where  do  they  keep  you  ?  and 
is  that  what  you're  at  every  day?"  said  he, 
pointing  significantly  to  the  horse  and  saddle 
bags. 

"  Not  every  day  ;  I  have  just  been  over  the 
circuit.  I  left  here  about  ten  days  since,  and 
am  now  returning.  I  may  not  go  out  again 
for  another  week — perhaps  longer ;"  and  the 
priest  noticed  the  troubled  look  which  almost 
forced  him  to  articulate  the  words — "  perhaps 
never." 

"  I  fear  they  don't  use  you  well,"  interrupted 
Father  McGlinn.  "  The  English  don't  like  us, 
Harry — never  will  like  us — they  haven't  the 
same  warm  feelings  that  we  have.  The  rave 
nous  clergy  of  the  Establishment  have  robbed 
and  plundered  poor  Ireland  until  there's  little 
left,  and  take  my  word  for  it  they're  going  to  do 
the  same  here,  or  I'm  much  mistaken  ;  though 
there's  some  hope,  as  the  Chartists  aren't  all 
dead  yet.  But  tell  me,  how  do  they  treat 
you  2" 

"  Indeed,  Father  Tom,  I  can't  complain  of 
bad  treatment ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  found 
the  people  very  kind.  'Tis  true  they  exhibit 
their  friendship  in  a  different  manner  from 
what  our  country  people  do,  but,  so  far,  I  have 
nothing  to  say  against  English  hospitality — 
nothing  indeed.  But,  Father  Tom,  don't  you 
think  the  clergy  of  one  church  would  be  just 
as  bad  as  those  of  another,  either  for  Ireland 
or  for  this  country,  or  for  any  other  country — 
that  is,  if  they  all  had  the  same  chance — all 
on  an  equality  ?  I've  thought  the  matter  over 
lately,  and  I  am  inclined  to  this  opinion." 

"  Lately,  have  you,"  said  Father  McGlinn, 
musing  ;  "  and  do  you  include  the  Ranters  and 
Swaddlers  among  the  rest?  You  know  ws 
look  upon  these  as  bastards — upstarts — but 
faith  they're  beginning  to  hold  up  their  heads 
as  high  as  the  best  of  us— the  Swaddlers  are 
at  any  rate.  Sure  it's  only  the  other  day  I 


88 


EXETER    HALL. 


heard  of — ocli !  bother — what's  his  name — I 
can't  think  of  it  now — but,  anyway,  a  chap 
that  calls  himself  a '  Methodist  parson,'  march 
ing  into  his  conventicle  with  all  the  airs  of  a 
cardinal,  and  stepping  up  into  his  elegant  pul 
pit  decked  in  gown  and  bands.  Why,  God 
bless  the  mark  !  I  would  just  as  soon  expect  to 
see  a  Quaker  in  regimentals.  Now,  with  all 
their  mock  humility,  and  sanctity,  and  their  pity 
for  the  deluded  of  England  and  Rome,  only 
give  these  same  creatures  wealth  and  numbers, 
and  then,  ecce  signum,  they  acquire  the  clerical 
animus,  and  the  inflated  Swaddler  who  may 
have  begun  life  on  a  kish  of  turf  now  turns 
up  his  nose  if  you  call  him  a  '  preacher,'  and 
hobbles  into  the  sunlight  as  a  '  reverend  cler 
gyman.'  What  d'ye  think  of  that  ?" 

"You  are  very  severe !  but  'tis  too  true — too 
true — all  from  the  same  spirit  of  arrogance. 
But.Father  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  after  a  pause, 
and  suddenly  changing  the  conversation,  "  I 
want  to  have  a  long,  long  talk  with  you  some 
day.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  to  you  that  you 
are  far  better  informed  on  many  subjects  than 
I  am,  and  there  are  many  questions  which 
have  troubled  me  lately  —  problems  which 
you  may  be  able  to  solve,  and  doubts  which 
perplex  me  very  much,  that  your  superior 
knowledge  may  remove.  I'm  not  afraid  to 
tell  this  to  you." 

"  Questions,  problems,  doubts,  all  troubling 
you,  and  lately  too.  Pray,"  said  Father 
McGlinn,  straightening  himself  up,  and  as 
suming  to  be  very  particular,  "  do  these 
partake  of  a  scientific,  metaphysical,  or  theolo 
gical  tendency  ?  if  of  the  two  former,  I  shall 
have  much  pleasure  in  a  rehearsal  with  you  ; 
if  of  the  latter,  of  course  you  would  not  con 
sult  me — a  Papist."  And  here  the  priest  made 
a  low  bow  of  mock  humility. 

"  I  will  consult  you,"  said  Mr.  Capel  eager 
ly — ''I  will  know  what  you  think.  I  would 
rather  go  to  you,  Father  Tom,  than  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  My  doubts  are 
theological,  and  I  know  you  will  set  me  right, 
if  you  can.  I  will  go  to  you  ;  I  would  rather 
confess  to  you,  now,  than  to  any  one  else  in  the 
world." 

"  Well,  then,  my  child,"  said  the  priest, 
speaking  very  tenderly, "  if  you  confess  to  me, 
you  will  be  sure  of  my  poor  absolution  ;  such 
as  it  is,  you  shall  have  it,  and  then,"  said  he, 
in  a  low,  confidential  tone,  "  I  may  make  a 
more  startling  confession  to  you.  But  who  is 
to  absolve  me  ?  Who  ?  You  will.  Ay,  but  the 
Pope  won't.  You  must  never  doubt  fiis  fonn 
of  truth  ;  if  you  do,  you're  damned  !  Ah ! 
Harry,  twenty  years  ago  I  learned  some  of  my 
doubts  from  your  poor  father,  and  I  have  car 
ried  them  along  with  me  ever  since  ;  and  I  sup 
pose  I  shall  forever  and  ever." 

"  Father  Tom,"  said  Mr.  Capel  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause,  "  when  can  I  see  you  after  to 
day  r 

"  When  ?  Any  time  you  like,  almost.  Some 
times  they  send  me  out  to  jails  and  prisons, 
and  such  places ;  for  I'm  no  great  iavorite 
with  the  bishop,  and  he  adds  these  appoint 
ments,  I  suppose,  by  the  way  of  penance. 
But  I  don't  mind  knocking  about  in  the  fresh 
air,  if  I  hadn't  to  visit  cells,  and  gloomy  places, 
among  criminals  and  half  idiots.  I'll  tell  you 


Harry,  could  you  ride  out  with    me  some 
day  ?" 

"  I  could.     What  day  do  you  say  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet,  until  I  get  back.  If 
you  come  to  Moorfields,  ten  chances  to  one 
but  we'd  have  half  a  dozen  priests  around  us  ; 
and  as  they  are  a  little  suspicious  of  ine  at 
times,  they'd  be  more  so  if  they  saw  me  cheek  by 
jowl  with  you  and  your  white  choker  ;  lave 
that  thing  off.  No,  Harry,  'twould  be  a  bad 
place  for  a  priest  and  a  Swaddler  to  meet." 

"  Name  your  day,  then,  Father  Tom.  We 
can  ride,  I  would  prefer  it." 

"  Let  me  see — Monday,  Tuesday  .Wednesday. 
Where  do  you  live,  Harry  1  hereabouts,  some 
where,  isn't  it  ?  I  think  we  may  try  it  on 
Friday.  You'd  have  no  objection  to  a  beef 
steak  on  that  day,  neither  would  I  for  the 
matter  of  that ;  but  we  must  keep  this  to  our 
selves.  So  we  can  have  a  long  chat  and  a 
beefsteak  and  trimmings  somewhere  in  town 
in  the  evening,  eh  ?" 

"That  will  be  excellent.  Friday  will 
answer  me  better  than  any  other  day  next 
week.  See,  there's  where  my  temporary  home 
is,  Father  Tom."  And  Mr.  Capel  pointed  to 
Heath  Cottage,  with  its  burnished  windows, 
fine  shade  trees,  and  pleasant  garden  ;  and 
just  as  they  were  admiring  the  cheerful  home 
stead,  the  sun's  lingering  rays  struck  the 
spray  of  the  little  fountain,  forming  a  beauti 
ful  tiny  rainbow,  and  now  and  then  as  the  jet 
gushed  higher,  it  seemed  to  beckon  a  welcome 
to  Mr.  Capel  and  his  friend,  Father  Tom. 

"  Heath  Cottage,  you  call  it.  Well,  now, 
may  I  never,  but  if  I  was  going  to  choose  a 
snug  little  spot  where  I  could  spend  the  re 
mainder  of  my  days,  I  wouldn't  want  a  sweet 
er  little  place  than  that.  Ton  my  sowl,  per- 
fectly  charming."  And  the  good  priest  put 
up  his  hand  to  shade  his  eyes,  in  order  to  get  a 
better  view.  "Why,  Harry,  how  in  God's 
name  did  you  strike  upon  that  place?  The 
owner  is,  of  course,  a  Swaddler  ?  Do  I  know 
him  ?  What's  his  name  ?" 

"  It  is  all  what  it  appears  to  be,  Father  Tom ; 
it  is  better  even  inside,  and  you  will  wonder 
that  its  owner  is  not  a  Methodist  nor  a  Swad- 
dler,  as  you  call  them  ;  in  religious  matters, 
he  is  something  like  my  father  ;  but  his  wife, 
Mrs.  Manners,  is  a  M  ethodist,  and — " 

"  Mrs.  what  ?"  eagerly  interrupted  the  priest. 
"  Mrs.  Mannors,  did  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Mannors,  wife  of  Martin  Man 
nors,  or,  as  he  ought  to  be  called,  the  honor 
able  Martin  Manners,  one  ol  the  noblest  men 
living." 

The  priest  looked  at  his  friend  in  blank 
amazement,  and  then  repeated  slowly,  "  The 
honorable  Martin  Manners,  of  Hampstead, 
Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Secularists  in  and 
about  London,  and  Great  High-Priest  of  the 
same !"  And  then,  still  looking  at  Mr.  Capel, 
he  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  eo  ludicrous  that 
Mr.  Capel  actually  laughed  aloud. 

"O  faith!  you  may  laugh,  ma  bovchal,  but 
he's  got  you.  I've  heard  of  that  name  before, 
and  if  that's  the  same  Martin  Manners  that 
shines  in  the  National  Reformer,  and  in  the 
Westminster,  occasionally,  no  wonder  you'd  be 
troubled  with  doubts  and  problems.  Why, 
man,  for  a  plain,  logical  writer  against  church- 


EXETER    HALL. 


es  and  creeds,  lie  can't  be  surpassed  in  Lon 
don,  nor  may  be,  in  all  England.  He's  mur 
der  all  out,  when  he  begins." 

It  was  Mr.  Capel'sturn  now  to  be  surprised  ; 
not  that  he  was  unacquainted  with  the  pecu 
liar  opinions  of  his  host  on  the  subject  of  re 
gion,  but  he  had  never  heard  of  him  as  a 
leader  or  writer,  and  he  assured  the  priest 
that  a  more  unassuming  person  he  had  never 
met. 

"  That's  the  man,  Harry  ;  not  a  bit  of  pre 
tension  about  him — but  och,  murder !  he's 
down  on  the  whole  of  us,  root  arid  branch. 
I've  never  seen  him,  but  I  know  this  from  a 
particular  friend.  And  bad  luck  to  half  the 
clerical  thick  skulls,  instead  of  facing  him 
like  men  and  refuting  his  fair  arguments, 
they  try  to  attack  his  character ;  but,  by  all 
accounts,  that's  beyond  their  reach,  and  they 
can't  do  with  him  yet  as  they  have  done  to 
Paine  and  others.  Well  now,  'pon  my  sowl, 
priest  and  all  as  I  am,  I'd  like  to  meet  him. 
True  genius  has  a  passport  to  every  heart, 
whatever  its  character." 

"  Father  Tom,  there  is  nothing  I  would 
like  better  than  that  you  should  get  acquaint 
ed  with  him.  You  will  be  very  much  pleased ; 
drive  on  with  me,  and  if  he's  at  home,  you 
shall  have  that  gratification  in  less  than  five 
minutes." 

They  drove  up  to  the  garden-gate,  and  Mrs. 
Manners,  being  as  usual  on  the  look-out  for 
Mr.  Capel,  saw  him  outside,  accompanied  by 
another  person  whose  clerical  habit,  as  he 
stepped  out  of  the  gig,  rather  puzzled  her. 
The  priest  wore  his  soutane,  over  which,  when 
driviiig,  he  drew  on  a  light  or  heavy  outside 
coat,  as  the  weather  might  require.  Mrs. 
Manners  therefore  did  not  venture  out,  but 
Robert  came  to  take  charge  of  the  horses  ; 
even  he  also  felt  nonplussed  as  to  the  real 
character  of  the  priest,  and  at  last  concluded 
that  he  must  be  some  great  man  among  the 
Methodists,  or  some  novel  importation  from 
"abroad"  to  delight  the  vision  of  Mrs.  Man 
nors  and  other  pious  sisters  at  Exeter  Hall. 

"  'Pon  my  word,  Mr.  Mannors,"  said  the 
priest,  after  the  introductions  were  over,  "  I'm 
very  happy,  very  happy  indeed  to  meet  with 
one  so  distinguished  as  yourself,  and  I  am 
entirely  indebted  to  my  friend  Mr.  Capel  for 
this  unexpected  pleasure."  And  the  honest 
red  face  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  McGlinn  was  beaming 
with  smiles,  while  he  continued  to  look  with 
admiration  upon  the  genial  countenance  of 
Mr.  MannorB. 

"  You  flatter  me,  Mr.  McGlinn,  indeed  you 
do  ;  but  flattery  from  a  clergyman,  to  one  not 
so  distinguished,  but  rather  so  noted  as  I  am, 
ought  to  be,  and  really  is  very  gratifying.  It 
is  a  rare  pleasure  for  me  to  be  honored  with  a 
visit  from  cither  priest  or  parson,  except  in 
the  case  of  our  friend  Capel ;  and  I  shall 
treasure  this  event  as  one  worthy  of  particular 
record." 

Mrs.  Mannors  had  only  just  then  entered 
the  room  ;  and  her  husband,  upon  presenting 
Mr.  McGlinn,  stated  that  he  was  a  Roman 
Catholic  priest,  and  a  very  intimate  friend  of 
Mr.  Capel.  Had  some  wicked  imp  quickly 
thrust  a  pin  into  her  arm,  she  could  not  have 
held  back  more  suddenly.  She  had  almost  as 


great  a  passion  for  reading  Fox's  BooTc  of 
Martyr's  as  Hannah  had  for  reading  John 
Bunyan  ;  and  as  her  prejudice  against  Popery 
was  very  strong,  she  really  fancied  that  there 
was  nothing  too  perfidious  for  a  Romish  priest ; 
and  to  meet  one  thus  so  unexpectedly  in 
her  own  house  produced  the  violent  nervous 
effect — actual  dread. 

Scarcely  one  present,  not  eveu  Mr.  Man- 
nors  himself,  could  suppress  a  smile.  Mr. 
Samuel  Styles  had  to  cough  quickly  and 
loudly  several  times  to  keep  from  bursting 
into  an  open  laugh  ;  and  the  fare  cal  expres 
sion  on  tl>e  priest's  face  just  meant  as  much 
as  if  he  had  said,  "  Don't  be  afraid  ;  indeed,  I 
won't  eat  you  at  all,  at  all,  ma'am !" 

In  a  moment  or  two,  however,  she  became 
reassured,  and  having  bowed  politely,  forced 
herself  to  utter  some  expressions  of  satisfac 
tion  ;  but  the  tantalizing  burden  remained  on 
her  mind,  how  Mr.  Capel,  a  preacher  of  the 
Gospel,  could  be  really  and  truly  the  intimate 
friend  of  a  Popish  priest.  After  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  the  interchange  of  a  few  common 
place  remarks,  as  it  was  getting  late,  the 
priest  reluctantly  said  he  should  have  to  leave ; 
but  he  received  a  warm  invitation  to  pay 
another  visit,  and  he  took  his  departure,  men 
tally  flinging  his  best  blessing  on  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  Mr.  Mannors  and  upon  his  whole 
household.  As  he  drove  off  alone  in  the 
fast  waning  sunlight,  he  felt  delighted  at 
having  crossed  by  chance  such  a  flowery,  fra 
grant  oasis  in  the  dreary  desert  of  his  clerical 
life. 

During  Mr.  McGlinn 's  stay,  he  made  in 
quiries  about  some  old  friends  residing  in 
Philadelphia,  whom  Mr.  Styles  happened  to 
know,  and  made  some  flattering  observations 
on  the  prosperity  of  the  great  republic  ;  and 
when  Samuel,  in  return,  thought  to  gratify  him 
with  an  account  of  the  immense  Catholitj 
cathedral  in  course  of  erection  in  that  city  ;  of 
the  great  wealth  of  the  hierarchy  of  his 
Church  in  the  United  States,  and  of  the  in 
fluence  which  the  Catholic  body  exercised 
throughout  the  country,  he  was  surprised  at 
the  indifference  manifested  by  Mr.  McGliun, 
and  set  him  down  as  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule  among  Catholic  clergymen. 

"  Father  McGlinn  is  an  oddity,"  said  Mr. 
Capel,  in  reply  to  a  remark  of  Mr.  Styles ;  "  he 
is  looked  on  by  his  own  people  as  very  ec 
centric  and  independent,  but  he  is  a  great 
favorite,  and  a  more  charitable  man  does  not 
exist ;  his  kindness  in  this  respect  is  never 
regulated  by  creed,  color,  or  country." 

"  That's  an  admirable  trait,"  said  Mr.  Man 
nors.  "  If  his  face  be  the  representative  of  hia 
heart,  his  generous  impulses  will  never  be 
circumscribed  by  such  ideas.  He  would  never 
make  an  inquisitor ;  I  hope  we  shall  meet  him 
soon  again." 

"  Mrs.  Mannors  could  attend  to  no  household 
affairs  that  evening  ;  and  while  her  husband 
was  engaged  in  a  conversation  with  Mr. 
Styles,  she  drew  Mr.  Capel  toward  a  seat 
near  the  back  window  of  the  room,  where 
they  could  chat  more  quietly,  and  asked  "him 
fifty  questions  about  priests  and  Catholics, 
and  about  the  state  of  religion  on  the  circuit. 
She  told  him  all  the  local  news  concerning 


90 


EXETER    HALL. 


class-meetings,  prayer-meetings,  tea-meetings, 
and  expected  revivals,  and  what  she  antici 
pated  at  Exeter  Hall ;  told  him  about  a  con 
troversy  which  had  been  commenced  on 
the  subject  of  baptism  ;  how  Mr.  Baker,  when 
he  returned  from  the  district  meeting,  would 
overwhelm  the  immersionitjte  ;  said  some 
thing  of  Dr.  Cumming's  new  exposition  of 
Daniel's  vision  of  the  ram  and  he-goat ;  and 
then  related  a  curious  dream  which  she  had 
had  three  nights  in  succession,  and  in  which 
he  and  Mr.  Mannors  were  the  principal  actors  ; 
and  how  her  hopes  were  growing  stronger 
and  stronger  that  her  husband  should  soon  be 
clothed  in  his  right  mind,  and  get  rid  of  the 
delusion  of  unbelief. 

Mr.  Capel  listened  to  these  desultory  reci 
tals  with  patience  ;  he  made  but  few  remarks. 
He  knew  she  would  be  more  content  if  he 
eat  and  heard  all  she  had  to  say ;  and  while 
she  tried  to  make  him  feel  interested  with  her 
religious  burden  of  eccentricities,  his  mind 
was  preoccupied  with  other  matters.  He 
thought  of  Father  McGlinn,  and  of  the  shadows 
of  skepticism  which  were  already  closing 
around  him  ;  a  little  longer,  and  he  too  might 
fall,  to  be  maligned  and  despised  by  those  who 
now  held  him  in  such  respect.  Then  he  re 
flected  upon  his  own  condition  ;  how  waver 
ing,  how  undecided.  Should  he  yet  be  sub 
jected  to  the  scorn  of  the  "  faithful "  ?  What 
would  Mr.  Baker  say  to  him  ?  how  should  he 
ever  again  hold  up  his  head  and  be  called  an 
apostate,  a  renegade,  a  wretch  ?  Then  there 
came  a  little  gleam  of  hope ;  how  many  thou 
sand  of  the  learned  and  intellectual  in  all 
ages  had  given  their  assent  to  Christianity, 
never  doubting  the  Bible  or  its  teachings. 
He  must  try  and  resist  this  growing  incredu 
lity,  he  must  abandon  those  speculations,  and 
curb  the  towering  pride  of  his  reason.  How 
many  in  the  heyday  of  health  and  prosperity 
had  professed  to  reject  inspiration  but  to  sub 
mit  and  bewail  their  error  in  a  dying  hour. 
He  knew  there  were  such ;  but  then  again,  he 
knew  that  the  reputed  death-bed  scenes  of 
Paine,  Voltaire,  and  others,  which  had  many 
times  made  him  shudder  at  a  doubt,  were  but 
gross  fabrications  of  unprincipled  men,  who, 
like  other  priests  in  all  ages,  believed  that  if 
truth  could  be  advanced  by  the  aid  of  a  lie,  it 
would  be  proper  to  do  so.  Then  again,  how 
uncertain  was  this  death-bed  testimony  ;  how 
many  instances  were  there  at  such  times  of 
Protestant  converts  relapsing  to  Catholicism, 
and  of  men  in  every  age  and  country  accept 
ing,  in  the  feebleness  of  senility,  the  very 
errors  which  they  had  rejected  under  the 
influence  of  a  sound  mind. 

The  shadows  of  evening  fell  upon  the 
sombre  features  of  Mrs.  Mannors,  as  she  look 
ed  with  indifference  upon  the  sleeping  flowers 
beneath  her  window.  She  had  ceased  speak 
ing,  and  seemed  in  one  of  her  pious  reveries, 
and  sat,  listless  and  languid,  with  passionless 
face,  like  one  weary,  very  weary  of  herself 
and  the  whole  world.  Just  then  her  busy, 
joyful  daughter  flitted  into  the  room  like  a 
ray  of  light;  she  was  followed  by  her  brother  ; 
and  Mrs.  Mannors,  having  kissed  the  delicate 
cheek  of  her  little  son,  led  the  way  to  the  tea- 
table  m  the  next  room. 


Half  an  hour  afterward,  and  before  Miss 
Mannors  had  time  to  commence  one  of  hei 
favorite  pieces,  Mrs.  Mannors  remarked,  when 
they  had  reassembled  in  the  parlor : 

'  Oh !  you  have  not  heard  all  that  Mr. 
Styles  has  to  say  about  America.  You  must 
hear  all  he  has  to  tell  us  of  the  missionaries 
and  wild  Indians,  and  what  the  Gospel  has 
done  for  the  poor  black  men  in  his  native  land. 
He  has  traveled  for  the  Bible  Society,  and 
knows  every  thing  about  those  interesting 
matters."  And  she  led  Mr.  Capel  toward  Mr. 
Styles,  and  looked  delighted  to  see  her  hus 
band  apparently  so  interested  in  private  con 
versation  with  the  American  stranger.  What 
a  positive  miracle  she  thought  it  was  now 
to  see  Mr.  Mannors  entertaining  a  minister 
of  the  Gospel,  and  the  agent  of  a  Bible  Soci 
ety.  Even  the  presence  of  a  Catholic  priest 
would  be  evidence,  however  trifling,  that  her 
husband  had  yet  some  regard  for  religion. 

"  Mr.  Styles  must  know  a  good  deal ;  he 
could  even  tell  your  priest  friend,  Mr.  Capel, 
what  they  were  doing  to  advance  the  interests 
of  his  church — that  terrible  Popish  system. 
The  cathedral  they  are  putting  up  in  Phila 
delphia  must  be  a  wonderful  building.  What 
a  pity  to  waste  so  much  money  in  an  endeavor 
to  delude  so  many  poor  ignorant  people !" 

"  Guess  it  is,  ma'am,"  said  Samuel  Styles, 
with  great  sincerity ;  "just  see  what  good 
might  be  done  for  the  poor  with  the  pile  of 
dollars  which  it  will  require  to  complete  the 
building  Fancy  one  million  thrown  away — 
yes,  worse  than  thrown  away,  for  such  a 
purpose.  But  Philadelphia,  like  New-York 
and  other  American  cities,  is  a  great  place  for 
churches,  and  ministers,  and  misery.  Some 
of  the  preachers  contend  so  hard  with  sinners, 
and,  said  he  parenthetically — so  often  with 
each  other — during  the  cold  dreary  winters, 
that  by  the  time  summer  comes  round  they 
are  used  up,  and  then  the  ladies  go  about 
among  the  converted  and  collect  money 
enough  to  send  the  broken-down  ministers 
away  upon  an  European  tour  to  recover  their 
health  and  appetites.  Then,  when  they  get 
back  in  the  fall,  ready  for  another  brush  with 
the  enemy,  the  women  folks  go  abound  again, 
and  get  more  money  to  buy  what  they  call  a 
service  of  plate — that  is,  a  silver  tea-pot  and  a 
lot  of  cups  and  saucers — to  encourage  them  to 
work  harder,  and  sometimes  your  tip-top  men 
get  a  gold  watch  or  two  thrown  in.  These 
women  are  charitable  to  the  ministers ;  if  it 
wasn't  for  them,  I  guess  the  preachers  would 
once  in  a  while  come  out  at  the  small  end — 
guess  it's  a  kind  of  so  all  the  world  over. 
While  the  men  squabble  and  make  money, 
the  women  take  care  of  the  church."* 

"  You  see,"  said  Mrs.  Mannors  approvingly, 
"  that  the  Lord  often  chooses  the  weak  things 
of  the  world  to  confound  the  wise.  He,  in 
his  own  peculiar  way,  selects  the  weaker  ves- 


*  A  religions  paper— the  New-York  Ambassador,  of 
Aug.  10, 1WJ7.  stated  that  the  Fifth  avenue  Presbyterian 
Chureh,  New- York,  had  presented  their  late  pastor. 

Rev.  N.  L.  R ,  with  a  purse  of  twenty-five  thousand 

dollars,  and  also  one  year's  salary  of  six  thousand  dol 
lars;  that  this  poor,  worn-out  pastor  had  purchased  a 
farm  near  New-Brunswick,  N.  J.,  where  he  intended 
to  recruit  his  health. 


EXETER    HALL. 


sels,  the  Marys  and  the  Marthas,  to  effect 
his  great  purposes." 

"Just  BO,  ma'am.  If  the  women  don't  rank 
equal  to  the  ministers  in  church  usefulness,  I 
kind  o'  guess  they  follow  immediately  next." 

"  So  they  do.  The  Lord  has  made  his  hand 
maids  serviceable  ;  I  hope  he  will  continue  to 
do  so  unto  the  end." 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  the  United  States  has  made 
great  strides  in  religious  matters  ;  but  here  1 
think  you  are  yet  a  leetle  ahead  of  us  just 
.yet.  You  know  we've  got  no  '  state  church,' 
but,  Lord  bless  you,  we've  got  pious  edifices 
at  every  street-corner — splendid  ones  too  ;  the 
whole  country  is  studded  with  them,  almost  as 
thick  as  tombstones  in  a  graveyard.  We 
have  now  about  fifty-four  thousand  churches 
in  the  United  States,  valued  at  one  hundred 
and  seventy -two  millions  of  dollars,  affording 
accommodation  for  nineteen  million  per 
sons.  Why,  in  New-York  itself,  there  are 
over  three  hundred  churches  of  all  kinds, 
which  to  support,  including  ministers'  sala 
ries,  costs  about  one  million  dollars  per  annum. 
Many  of  these  churches  are  richly  endowed, 
producing,  according  to  a  careful  estimate,  an 
annual  income  of  eighteen  millions  of  dollars 
— all,  too,  free  from  any  kind  of  tax.  Trinity 
Church  alone  is  possessed  of  vast  wealth.* 
Then  we  have  a  spiritual  army  of  over  fifty 
thousand  well-paid  ministers,  going  to  and  fro 
throughout  the  land,  preaching  and  praying  : 
yet  poverty  and  crime,  especially  in  cities  and 
among  churches,  is  on  the  increase ;  and  though 
ministers  use  all  their  influence  to  have  mu 
seums,  public  libraries,  and  places  of  amuse 
ment  shut  up  on  the  Sabbath  day,  yet  not 
more  than  one  sixth  of  the  population  can  be 
induced  to  attend  a  place  of  worship.  They 
once  tried  in  Philadelphia  to  put  a  stop  to 
traveling  on  Sunday,  by  putting  chains  across 
the  streets  in  front  of  church  doors,  and  even 
now  they  object  to  let  a  street-car  run  on  that 
day — the  poor  man  must  walk,  while  the  rich 
can  drive  with  impunity  ;  but  the  multitudes 
won't  be  forced,  and  the  churches  are  no  bet 
ter  filled  than  usual ;  still  they  go  on  build 
ing  more,  but  with  the  same  result ;  and  un 
believers  boastfully  eixy  that  the  money  it 
costs  to  erect  stylish  sanctuaries  f  and  pay  an 


*  With  respect  to  the  vast  wealth  of  Trinity  Church, 
New- York,  an  American  paper  gives  the  following 
Item  of  news : 

"  The  Claim  of  Trinity  Church,  in  New- York  City,  to 
about  SIXTY  MILLIONS  OF  DOLLARS  worth  of  real  estate 
la  about  to  be  tested  in  the  Courts  of  that  State. 

is  one  of  the  counsel  for  the  heirs  of  Anneke 

Jans  who  claim  the  property." 

After  reading  this,  one  is  almost  forced  to  rub  his  eyes, 
to  see  if  he  be  not  deceived ;  but  the  fact  is  too  notorious. 
The  characteristic  greed  of  the  Christian  craft  has  en 
abled  even  that  one  church  to  monopolize  enough  to 
furnish  a  home  for  every  poor  family  in  the  great 
State  of  JJew-York  I  0  shame  !  where  is  thy  blush  ?— 
Author. 

t  FASHIONABLE  CHURCHES.— A  writer  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly,  for  January— says :  '•  The  design  of  the  fash 
ionable  church-builder  of  the  present  moment  is  to 
produce  a  richly-furnished,  quietly  adorned,  dimly-il- 
Inminated  ecclesiastical  parlor,  in  which  a  few  hun 
dred  ladies  and  gentlemen,  attired  in  kindred  taste,  may 
sit  perfectly  at  their  ease,  and  see  no  object  not  in  har 
mony  with  the  scene  around  them.  Every  thing  in 
and  around  the  church  seems  to  proclaim  it  a  kind  of 
exclusive  ecclesiastical  club,  designed  for  the  accom- 

Imodation  of  persons  of  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year  and 
upward."      , 


army  of  preachers  would  be  more  than  suffi 
cient  to  banish  every  trace  of  poverty  from  the 
land ;  that  the  money  which  is  annually 
squandered  for  religious  purposes  would  be 
more  than  ample  to  provide  homes  for  the 
homeless,  and  food  and  clothing  for  all  in 
need  ;  thus  reducing  motives  to  crime,  and  in 
creasing  a  general  contentment  and  mo 
rality."  * 

Mrs.  Manners  felt  a  little  surprise  at  such 
admissions  from  Mr.  Styles,  and  seemed 
doubtful  as  to  the  propriety  of  this  mode  of 
upholding  religion  in  the  presence  of  her  hus 
band.  He  and  Mr.  Capel  sat  quietly  by,  lis 
tening  with  great  interest  to  the  recital ;  and 
she  came  to  the  rescue  by  saying  that  she 
thought  such  facts  were  the  best  proof  of  the 
depravity  of  the  human  heart  in  resisting  di 
vine  grace.  It  was  so  all  the  time.  Some  will 
never  do  more  than  ask,  "  What  shall  we  eat, 
what  shall  we  drink,  or  wherewithal  shall  we 
be  clothed?"  As  long  as  their  perishing  bo 
dies  are  cared  for,  they  feel  indifferent  about 
providing  for  their  immortal  souls. 

"  But,"  said  she,  making  a  diversion,  "  you 
can  tell  us  about  the  Bible  Society.  The 
American  Christians  get  credit  for  great  libe 
rality  in  trying  to  circulate  the  glorious  Gos 
pel." 

"  So  they  ought,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Styles, 
pulling  out  a  little  memorandum-book.  "  I 
guess  there  an't  a  race  of  people  on  earth  fling 
their  money  away  faster  than  they  do.  Just 
get  steam  up  pretty  well,  make  some  loud 
talk  about  '  the  Book,'  and  then  they  go  it 
like  a  streak.  I  rather  think  I  can  give  an  il 
lustration  of  their  excitability — guess  it's  about 
the  same  in  piety  as  in  politics.  The  Ameri 
can  Bible  Society  has  done  a  good  deal  in  ita 
particular  way.  In  about  fifty  years,"  said  he, 
consulting  his  memoranda,  "  they  have  col 
lected  over  ten  millions  of  dollars,  issued  over 
twenty-one  millions  of  Bibles,  and  have  pub 
lished  over  seventy  editions  of  'The  Word' 
in  forty-three  different  languages  ;  and  last 
year  again  the  society  raised  over  six  hundred 
thousand  dollars  /" 

These  tremendous  figures  made  even  Mrs. 
Mannors  gasp,  and  she  brought  her  hands  to 
gether  in  a  perfect  ecstasy.  "  Oh  !  what  inde 
fatigable  men  you  must  have  in  your  native 
land,  what  wonderful  liberality,  in  such  anew 
country,  what  a  conscientious  regard  for  the 
Bible!  Your  nation  must  prosper.  The  Lord 
loveth  a  cheerful  giver." 

"That  regard  may  be  another  matter,  ma'am. 
I  have  assisted  in  the  distribution  of  some 
thousands  of  copies  of  the  Scriptures  ;  every 
family  thought  it  but  right  to  have  a  Bible  ; 
but  then  it  was  mostly  laid  aside  if  it  was  a 
plain  affair  ;  but  if  it  had  good  binding  and  gilt 
edges,  it  would  be  put  among  trinkets,  where 
it  could  be  admired  with  the  rest.  This  kind 
of  Bible-purchase  used  to  remind  me  of  the 
great  number  of  pious  folks  who  regularly 
attended  church  to  hear  fine  music  and  go  to 
sleep."  Then,  after  a  pause,  he  continued, 
"  It  was  a  mystery  to  me ;  the  money  kept  a 


*  From  the  New- York  Christian  Advocate,  (1868.)  w« 
learn  that  the  Centenary  contributions  of  the  M.  E 
Church  now  foot  up  to  nearly  eight  and  a  quarter  mil 
lion  of  dollars,  with  four  conferences  yet  to  hear  from 


92 


EXETER    HALL. 


coming  in,  and  out  went  loads  upon  loads  of 
Bibles  ;  but  the  fact  is,  they're  not  read ;  and 
if  white  folks  won't  read  them,  neither  will 
the  black ;  but  then,  they  all  must  have  Bibles, 
just  like  the  papist  his  cross,  or  the  witch 
her  charm,  and  so  it  goes  on  from  year  to 
year,  and  the  world  won't  be  converted.  It 
is  all  a  mystery — ten  millions  of  money  and 
twenty  one  millions  of  Bibles  !"* 

Having  made  these  statements,  Mr.  Styles 
assumed  a  reflective  attitude,  and  Mrs.  Man 
ners  again  put  in  a  defense. 

"  It  may  be  a  mystery  to  us  for  a  while,  but 
a  glorious  result  will  follow — the  Lord  has 
promised  it — therefore  we  need  hot  doubt. 
The  missionary  reports  give  us  glowing  ac 
counts  of  what  the  Lord  is  doing  among  the 
heathen  ;  and  his  divinely  appointed  ministers 
of  our  land  and  of  yours  are  going  forth  like 
spiritual  Samsons,  overturning  idols  and  rout 
ing  the  enemy." 

"  There  is  unfortunately  a  great  difference 
sometimes  between  these  missionary  reports. 
One  says,  that,  beside  the  actual  cost,  it  takes 
about  six  missionaries  to  convert  one  Hotten 
tot  ;  that  is,  it  takes  six  lives  ;  six  of  them  die 
off,  and  then  the  Hottentot  won't  stay  con 
verted  if  you  don't  feed  him  well.  You  know 
the  heathen,  parishioners  often  eat  their 
minister!  The  Missionary  Herald  won't 
publish  such  facts,  or  will  gloss  them  over, 
and  make  it  appear  as  if  things  were  going  on 
swimmingly ;  but  the  truth  leaks  out  by 
degrees ;  and  I  often  think  it  is  such  a  pity 
that  the  millions  we  spend — including  many 
a  widow's  mite — should  be  flung  away  while 
we  have  so  many  poor,  and  ignorant,  and 
heathenish  at  home." 

"  No  matter,  these  things  may  be  dishearten 
ing,  but  the  command  is,  '  Go  forth,  and  pro 
claim  the  Gospel  to  every  creature !'  and  it 
must  be  done.  What  is  the  wealth  of 
earth  compared  to  the  value  of  one  immor 
tal  soul !  Our  missionaries  have  con 
tended  with  the  powers  of  darkness  in  foreign 
lands ;  have  had  fierce  struggles,  but  glorious 
triumphs.  Even  one  solitary  rescue  from  the 
grasp  of  Satan  more  than  compensates  for  the 
millions  we  spend.  The  cross  has  been  raised 
and  the  crescent  is  waning,  and  devils  tremble, 
while  the  idols  of  the  heathen  lie  scattered  in 
the  dust.  Come  to  morrow,  come  with  me 
and  see  a  proof  of  these  glorious  triumphs  at 
Exeter  Hall." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  was  the  fourth  of  May,  1864,  and  a  vast 
number  of  persons  thronged  the  streets  of  the 
metropolis.  The  many  houseless  and  homeless 

•MAGNIFICENT  BIBLE.— Mr.  Mackenzie,  of  Glasgow, 
has  printed  a  email  number  of  what  he  calls  his 
"  Hundred  Guinea  Edition  "  of  the  Holy  Scriptures— 
an  edition  with  which  his  name  will  always  be  associ 
ated.  It  is  the  most  sumptuous  and  best  printed 
Bible  ever  produced.  The  size  is  atlas  folio  ;  the  type 
need  is  a  beautiful,  sharp-cut  great-primer,  set  up  in 
two  columns,  with  two  narrow  central  columns  of 
reference ;  a  thick  red  border  line  is  printed  outside 
the  text ;  the  paper  made  use  of  is  very  thick,  made 
especially  by  Dlckenson,  costing,  we  believe,  as  much 
as  fourteen  pence  a  pound.  Twelve  copies  only  have 
been  printed,  and  the  probability  IB,  that  whenever  a 
copy  turns  up  for  sale  It  will  fetch  some  fabulous 
price.— English,  paper. 


wanderers  that  lurked  here  and  there,  or  sat 
listlessly  in  some  recess,  looked  with  moody 
indifference  upon  the  gay  crowd  that  flitted 
by,  though  often  shadowed  by  the  diseased  and 
limping  poverty  that  hobbled  by  its  side.  Eng 
lish  lords  and  foreign  barons  passed  and  re- 
passed,  and  now  the  gay  retinue  of  a  wealthy 
peer  moved  proudly  by ;  while,  not  far  distant, 
the  fluttering  rags  of  a  British  beggar  could 
be  seen,  as  he  watched  with  scowling  aspect 
the  approach  of  a  policeman  who  would  pre 
vent  him  asking  the  charity  which  lie  so  much 
needed,  or  warn  him  off  as  an  unclean  thing, 
unfit  to  be  seen.  And  then,  at  intervals,  could 
be  observed  drifting  wrecks  of  frail  and  fam 
ishing  womanhood,  moving  slowly  but  surely 
down,  down,  to  that  deep,  dark  gulf  of  infamy, 
out  of  which  not  one  in  a  hundred  is  ever 
rescued. 

Neither  fog  nor  cloud  interposed  this  day  to 
frown  upon  the  flaunting  gayety  of  heartless 
wealth,  or  shut  out  the  sad  condition  of  those 
harassed  to  temptation  and  crime  by  the 
heavy  load  of  poverty  and  affliction  which 
flung  out  such  dreary  shadows  of  despair  upon 
the  future.  The  sun  shone  down  brightly  en 
all  alike,  as  if  in  reproof  to  the  imposed  dis 
tinctions  which  religion  and  exclusiveness 
have  ever  advocated,  and  which  have  robbed 
so  many  of  nature's  free  gifts,  spreading  such 
misery  and  desolation  over  the  whole  earth. 

Onward  went  the  crowd ;  and  those  who,  from 
long  observation,  could  readily  distinguish 
between  the  every  day  appearance  of  the 
stream  of  life  which  pours  through  a  London 
thoroughfare  and  one  of  an  unusual  kind 
could  this  day  notice  the  foreign  faces  and 
quaint  and  provincial  costumes  which  moved 
toward  Waterloo  bridge.  The  throng  here 
was  very  great,  and  it  required  all  the  exertion 
of  a  host  of  policemen  to  keep  the  thoroughfare 
from  being  completely  blocked  up.  Pedestri 
ans  and  equestrians,  soldiers  and  civilians, 
cabs,  coaches,  and  omnibuses  followed  each 
other  in  quick  succession  ;  and  a  great  number 
of  clergymen,  a  few  statesmen  and  philanthro 
pists,  made  the  medley  almost  complete. 

Farther  toward  the  Strand  the  current  of 
people  seemed  to  flow,  but  a  crowd  was  kept 
from  forming  in  that  place  by  the  tens  and 
dozens  which  went  off  together  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Exeter  Hall.  Equipage  after  equi 
page  was  ranged  around  the  building,  in  wait 
ing  for  the  great  personages  they  had  con 
veyed  thither.  Surely  some  extraordinary 
business  must  be  on  hand ;  it  might  be  sup 
posed  that  a  convocation  of  the  great,  the  wise, 
the  humane,  and  charitably  disposed  of  the 
world  was  about  to  take  place  to  concert  one 
grand  measure  to  relieve  the  necessities  of 
every  human  being,  and  that  an  experimen 
tal  attempt  was  to  be  made  among  the  hun 
dreds  and  thousands  of  poverty-stricken 
wretches  struggling  out  a  miserable  exist 
ence  in  that  great  city  of  wealth  and  priva 
tion,  and  afterward  to  be  extended  to  the 
children  of  misery  throughout  the  kingdom. 
Or  it  might  be  an  immense  gathering  of  tho 
kind  and  merciful,  to  abolish,  first  of  all,  thoso 
pauper  prisons  and  bastiles  of  poverty  which 
ought  to  bring  a  blush  of  shame  to  the  cheeks 
of  British  legislators — prisons  and  bastiles,  in 
which  human  beings  are  degraded  for  the 


EXETER    HALL. 


98 


crime  of  penurj — where  the  child  knows  no 
parent,  and  where  the  venerable  couple  who 
have  walked  tog-ether  nearly  to  the  very  foot 
of  the  hill  of  life  are  here  separated  forever, 
and  imprisoned  because  of  their  mendicancy  !* 

Were  these  people  about  to  meet  to  estab 
lish  some  great  system  of  free  education,  or 
to  improve  the  condition  of  the  overwrought 
working  'classes?  What  benevolent  object 
could  there  be  in  view  which  could  thus  in 
duce  the  reputed  wise  of  the  earth  to  hurry 
together  from  its  four  corners  to  meet  in  a 
distant  city?  Alas!  simply  but  a  matter 
which  fancifully  relates  to  the  soul  alone,  and 
to  another  state  of  existence,  and  to  the  te 
dious  and  exorbitantly  expensive  dissemina 
tion  of  a  so-called  revelation  from  the  of 
fended  deity  of  Christendom  ! 

The  stranger  or  citizen  of  London  on  that 
fine  May  morning  could  not  but  observe  the 
numerous  placards  and  large  posters  put  up 
in  conspicuous  places,  side  by  side  with  bills 
about  Drury  Lane,  Covent  Garden,  and  other 
noted  places  of  amusement ;  and,  as  he  went 
along,  he  would  see,  wandering  about  the  gay 
streets,  brutalized  and  sottish  men,  earning 
sixpence  or  a  shilling  by  carrying  the  same 
placard  on  their  shoulders,  and  then,  as  with 
staggering  step,  one  thrust  himself  in  the 
way,  the  pedestrians  could  read — 
"  EXETER  HALL ! 

GREAT    MEETING     OF     THE     BRITISH     AND 
FOREIGN  BIBLE  SOCIETY, 
THIS  DAY  !" 

Those  who  chose  to  follow  the  stream  of 
life  toward  the  Hall  could  notice  the  great 
number  of  loungers  and  idlers  in  front  of  its  en 
trance  ;  that  is,  if  men  who  are  willing  to  labor 
but  can  not  find  employment  may  be  called 
such,  and  coarse  jokes  and  rough  comments, 
made  by  the  pauper  crowd,  could  be  heard  as 
a  stately  carriage;  drove  up,  or  upon  the  appear 
ance  of  some  clerical  celebrity,  against  whom 
these  comments  were  more  particularly  di 
rected. 

"  That's  a  rum  cove,  Bill ;  that  ere  fellow's  a 
Sandwicher,  I'll  bet." 

"  No,  he  beant,  Tom  ;  if  it's  that  lantern  jaw 
with  the  gold  swag,  just  going  in,  it's  Parson 
Rockett,  with  liis  five  hundred  a  year.  Dare 
say  lie's  taken  in  more  sandwiches  in  a  week 
than  we  ever  did  in  our  blasted  lives,  and  yet 
he's  slim  about  the  belt." 

"  Here's  a  swell,  boys  !  my  eyes,  what  a  well- 
paid  Christian  !  there's  a  corporation  for  you  1" 

"  Who's  he,  Jack  V" 

"  Dttnno ;  I'll  lay  it's  a  bishop  ;  'tis  too.  Fine 
coach  that !  dare  say  he's  got  the  dibs.  I'd  damn 
sight  rather  have  his  purse  than  his  prayers. 
Ay,  that's  Bishop  of  Winchester ;  he's  a  big 
'un,  and  will  stick  to  the  Bible  as  long  as  it 
brings  him  from  ten  to  twenty  thousand  a  year, 
the  blasted  state  cormorant !" 

"  See,  Bill,  here's  another  on  'em.  Good 
heavens !  what  I'd  give  to  be  a  bishop  ;  another 
fine  coach,  lots  o'  flunkies  and  plenty  of  brass. 
That's  Ripon.  My  Lord  Bishop  of  Ripon,  ha, 
ha  1  Damn  me,  but  I  would  like  to  be  him  ;  some 
thousands  a  year,  plenty  to  eat,  nothing  to 

*  See  Note  O. 


do,  plenty  of  beer,  lots  o'  fun.  Good  God, 
what  a  life !" 

"  Jack,  this  next  fellow  an't  a  bishop ;  the 
mope  is  afoot,  and  looks  as  if  he  had  just  lost 
his  mother." 

"  That's  one  of  them  'ere  preachers,  a  Me< 
thody,  reg'ler  blue-face.  Jest  hear  him  once, 
when  he's  set  a'going.  All  hell,  hell !  He 
knows  more  about  it  than  the  best  on  'em." 

"  Who's  this  grinning  ape,  Tom  ?  This  cove 
with  the  umbreller  ?" 

"  And  the  big  teeth  ?  don't  you  know,  Bill  ?" 

"  No,  but  blast  it,  I  think  I  ought !  Blow  me, 
but  it's  Spurgeon  !  so  it  is.  He's  got  jaw 
breakers,  and  uses  them  too.  He'll  make  'em 
finger  the  dibs  to-day,  and  send  another  batch 
of  Bibles  to  the  forriners." 

"  Say,  Bill,  didn't  you  get  a  Bible  once  from 
one  of  them  hired  chaps?  One  of  them — 
what  do  you  call  'ems?  What  did  you  do 
with  the  Bible,  Bill  ?" 

"  Sold  it  for  beer  and  bacca — same  as  yon 
and  Tom  Brown  did." 

"  But  you  never  read  yours,  you  blasted 
heathen!" 

"  Didn't,  'cause  I  couldn't — wouldn't  if  I 
could." 

"  0  Bill !  Then  you  never  knew  any  thing 
about  the  ass  that  talked  for  a  lull  half-hour 
to  Jonah  before  the  cock  crew  at  him." 

"  Wouldn't  bleeve  it  if  I  did ;  that's  all 
gammon — bishop's  gammon." 

"  Them  chaps  going  in  bleeves  it,  Bill — eh? 
Pays  well." 

"  So  they  says,  but  I  knows  better  than 
that — they  may  though,  cause  they're  paid — 
'tis  their  trade,  and  they'd  bleeve  any  sich 
rubbish  for  money.'' 

"  Stand  aside,  here's  another  one  of  the 
spouters,  swellish  like.  Them's  a  nice  pair  of 
grays.  I  don't  mean  the  reverend  old  buck, 
nor  the  lady,  nor  of  course  th«  young  uns  in 
front,  but  the  horses — slap  tips,  an't  they  ? 
Tis  a'most  as  good  as  a  bishop's.  Lord,  how 
this  praying  business  does  pay !  See  him, 
how  he  blinks,  and  bows — that's  your  style, 
old  boy." 

"  Jack,  if  that  fellow  has  the  face  of  a  con 
verted  saint,  there's  hope  for  you  and  Bill." 

"What  the  devil  do  you  know  about  it? 
You  wouldn't  compare  me  to  that  chap,  would 
you?  WTho  is  he?  Just  see  him  hand  the 
ladies.  O  Lord !" 

"  WThoishe,  Bill?" 

"  Why,  that's  Buster,  Dr.  Buster,  as  they  calla 
him  — one  of  the  most  certain,  immortal  saints 
in  town,  great  among  the  female  angels  !" 

"  Buster — Buster,  I've  heerd  o'  him  some 
place  afore  ;  he's  big  and  ugly  enough  to  bust 
into  hell  without  a  passport. " 

"  Well,  if  he's  a  saint,  there's  hope  for  me !" 

On  this  particular  day,  Exeter  Hall  was 
filled  to  its  utmost  capacity  ;  one  would  think 
that  the  elite  of  the  wealth  and  fashion  of 
Britain  had  deputed  its  most  stylish  to  attend, 
in  order  to  convince  the  distinguished  foreign 
ers  of  the  earnestness  and  orthodoxy  of  the 
wealthy  and  high  born  of  the  United  King 
dom.  Eminently  credulous  men,  full  of  faith, 
from  distant  lands,  could  be  seen  in  the  brilliant 
assemblage,  and  there  were  great  anticipa 
tions  that  this  day  would  furnish  anothei 


94 


EXETER    HALL. 


triumphant  proof  of  British  benevolence,  and 
that  another  check  would  be  given  to  the  in 
creasing  skepticism  and  presumptuous  infi 
delity  of  the  a  ge. 

While  the  spacious  platform  was  crowded 
with  many  of  the  most  famous  defenders  and  ex 
pounders  of  the  Bible  in  Great  Britain,  Ame 
rica,  France,  Germany,  and  other  countries,  it 
was  remarkable  that  the  higher  dignitaries  of 
the  Established  Church  were  not  to  be  seen 
amongst  them  Where  were  the  spiritual 
princes  of  York  and  Canterbury  1  When  was 
the  regal  fisherman  of  Lambeth  Palace  V  It 
might  be,  however,  that  it  would  riot  comport 
with  the  dignity  of  an  arclibishop  thus  to  ex- 
po*e  himself  to  vulgar  gaze,  along  with  the 
numbers  of  orce  wild  chiefs  and  cannibals  that 
were  to  be  exhibited  on  that  and  the  following 
day,  as  triumphs  of  the  Gospel.  But  when  the 
Bible  has  done  so  much  to  inculcate  a  regard 
for  the  "  powers  that  be,"  and  lias  so  particu 
larly  secured  for  the  English  hierarchy  such 
an  overflowing  of  worldly  ease  and  comfort, 
it  might  be  only  within  bounds  to  expect  that, 
if  for  no  other  reason,  even  an  assumed  vene 
ration  for  that  holy  book  should  induce  "  His 
Grace"  of  Canterbury  to  appear  there  among 
other  humble  Christians,  and  personally  advo 
cate  its  circulation. 

However,  the  embodiment  of  piety  and  re 
ligions  talent  which  was  this  day  to  add  such 
additional  lustre  to  "  Gospel  triumphs"  seem 
ed  to  git  together  like  lambs  of  the  same  flock, 
dutiful  children  of  the  same  father — a  specta 
cle  of  love  and  humility,  on  which  men  and 
angels  might  gaze  forever  with  delight. 
What  an  exhibition  !  A  spiritual  fraternity, 
docile  and  submissive,  striving  not  f'>r  prece 
dence,  nor  for  the  unholy  superiority  of  creeds, 
but  all  met  again  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  to 
assist  in  the  propagation  of  the  "  glorious  Gos 
pel."  Men  of  every  nation  and  clime  here 
met  in  fraternal  embrace  on  this  spacious 
platform,  as  living  proofs  of  Bible  regenera 
tion;  and  the  skeptic  or  infidel  might  well 
look  confused  when  he  saw  a  titled  and 
mitred  bishop  sit  as  contentedly  side  by  side 
with  a  converted  Caflre  or  Ojibbeway  chief, 
as  the  Rev.  Dr.  Buster  then  and  there  sat 
between  his  reverend  friends,  James  Baker 
and  Jonah  Hall. 

As  soon  as  the  noble  and  distinguished  pre 
sident  of  the  society,  the  Right  Honorable  the 
Earl  of  Shaftesbury  K.G.,  took  his  seat  on  the 
platform,  there  was  a  murmur  of  applause 
from  the  vast  assembly,  and  the  great  organ 
swelled  forth  its  strains  of  solemn  but  exqui 
site  music  ;  and,  now,  as  wave  after  wave  of 
harmony  swept  through  the  great  hall,  it  had 
its  usual  preparatory  influence  upon  the  feel 
ings  of  all  present. 

A  clergyman  then  opened  the  proceedings 
with  pmyer,  and  read  the  forty-fifth  Psalm. 
An  abstract  of  the  society's  proceedings  for 
the  year  was  then  read,  showing  that  the  re 
ceipts  for  the  year,  applicable  to  the  general 
purposes  of  the  society,  were  nearly  £90,000 
sterling,  being  nearly  £6000  over  the  preced 
ing  year,  and  greatly  exceeding  the  annual 
collections  of  any  lormer  period.  The  amount 
received  for  the  Bale  of  Bibles  and  Testaments 
was  £80,000,  while  the  total  receipts  from  the 


ordinary  sources  of  income  amounted  to  about 
£169,000,  being  more  than  in  any  preceding 
year ;  and  during  the  year  the  society  had  is 
sued  from  its  depots  at  home  about  1,900,000 
copies  of  the  Scriptures,  and  from  the  foreign 
depots  645,000  copies. 

The  grand  total  of  copies  issued  by  the  so 
ciety  up  to  its  sixtieth  anniversary  amounted 
to  over  forty-jive  and  a  half  millions  "of  copies 
of  the  word  of  God.  at  an  expense  of  terfrai 
millions  sterling!  The  total  expenditure  for 
the  year  was  over  £151 ,000,  leaving  the  society 
still  under  engagements  to  the  extent  of  about 
£110,000* 

It  is  quite  probable  that  the  issues  of  the 
British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  now  extend 
to  over  fifty  millions  of  copies  ot  the  so-called 
"word  of  God."  Ac  ually  more  than  one 
Bible  for  every  minute  of  time  of  thelast^ixty 
years,  or  since  the  establishment  of  the  society. 
Who  can  fairly  prove  that  the  world  is  any  bet 
ter  for  all  this  expenditure  ? — millions  worse 
than  wasted  in  an  insane  idea  to  elevate  human 
ity  by  the  degradation  of  reason  ?  Half  of 
what  it  has  cost  to  circulate  Bibles  and  teach 
religion  within  the  last  fifty  years,  properly 
disbursed  for  humane  or  educational  purposes, 
would  have  almost  banished  every  trace  of 
poverty,  and  have  given  a  more  correct  idea  of 
"  what  is  truth  "  by  leading  men  to  see  the 
vicious  principle  of  the  false  ideas,  false 
honor,  false  patriotism,  and  spurious  benevo 
lence  which  still  govern  and  actuate  priests 
and  rulers  of  all  kinds  throughout  the  world. 
Talk  of  a  religion  of  pence,  while  it  seems  that 
war  is  the  great  idea  of  the  ..uman  race  at  the 
present  day !  Nations  which  claim  to  be  emi 
nently  Christian  are  generally  first  in  the  field 
of  contest,  and  are  continually  making  pre 
parations  for  a  further  reliance  on  providence 
by  increasing  their  store  of  bullets,  bayonets, 
and  bomb-shells.  It  has  been  asserted,  as  a 
melancholy  fact,  that  during  the  sixty-eight 
years  of  this  century,  more  human  lives  have 
been  sacrificed  to  the  Moloch  of  war  than  in 
any  five  centuries  of  history.  The  present 
century  may  be  said  to  have  opened  with  the 
French  Rev«  ilution,  while  the  year  (1865)  closed 
the  stupendous  war  of  the  rebellion  among 
Christian  Americans  ;  and  now,  Christian  Eu 
rope  is  again  ablaze  with  the  pomp  and  cir 
cumstance  of  war,  there  being  already  over 
three  millions  of  Christian  men  under  arms, 
awaiting  a  signal  from  the  great  destroyer  to 
commence  their  pastime  of  havoc;  ecclesias 
tical  history,  more  than  any  other,  is  a  dread 
ful  record  of  atrocity.  The  sentiment  of  the 
age  is  for  war  ;  impress  the  gilded  and  glitter 
ing  word  "  patriotism"  upon  the  human  heart, 
and  it  almost  blots  out  every  trace  of  the  im 
print  of  humanity  left  there  by  the  better 
feelings  of  our  nature.  There  is  no  confidence 
between  Christian  nations.  Chrihtian  diplo 
macy  is  but  a  system  of  polished  duplicity — 
suspicion  lurks  in  every  cabinet— and,  as  proof, 
the  armed  peace  of  Christian  Europe  annually 
costs  the  enormous  sum  of  over  £  800,000.000 
sterling.  Talk  of  war,  and  the  school-boy, 
with  "  paper  cap  and  wooden  sword,  plays  the 

*  See  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society's  report  foj 
June,  1804. 


EXETER    HALL. 


95 


general  ;"  while  the  Utihop  iays  down  his 
Bible,  and  inarches  from  the  pulpit  to  corn- 
Maud  a  brigade.*  In  every  gallery  of  art,  the 
busts  of  our  "  national  heroes "  obtain  the 
most  conspicuous  place  ;  and  our  numerous 
costly  monuments  are  nearly  all  for  the  pur 
pose  of  enthroning  in  equestrian  marble  some 
military  demi-god,  and  elevating  him  nearer 
to  heaven.  Shakespeare  may  remain  perched 
on  a  stool,  while  the  column  erected  to  a  York 
or  a  Nelson  can  almost  touch  the  cross  of  St. 
Pauls. 

After  the  report  was  read,  the  president, 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  addressing  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  said,  "That  nothing  had  occurred 
during  the  year  to  render  it  necessary  for  him 
to  interpose  between  them  and  the  business 
of  the  meeting.  He  had  only  to  thank  God 
that  this  unhistorical,  uninspired,  unfortunate 
and  unnecessary  book  had  been  demanded 
with  redoubled  avidity.  They  had  upon  that 
platform  proof  of  what  he  said.  Among 
others,  they  had  ambassadors  from  the  dis 
tant  island  of  Madagascar  coming  to  record 
the  triumph  of  God's  holy  word  in  their  own 
land,  ready  and  rejoicing  to  carry  back  to  their 
country  a  narrative  of  the  triuniphs,which  they 
had  witnessed  in  this.  But  he  would  not,  by 
saying  any  more,  interrupt  a  far  better  speech 
from  a  far  better  man,  and  he  therefore  called 
upon  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester  to  move 
the  first  resolution.! 

The  noble  chairman,  whose  address,  if  it 
possessed  no  other  merit,  had  that  of  brevity. 
Like  most  other  Englishmen,  he  could  not 
refrain  from  alluding  to  the  "  triumphs"  of 
his  native  land.  But  as  those  to  which  he 
more  particularly  referred  were  "  of  the  Gos 
pel,"  it  might  be  well  to  notice  a  few  of  the 
complaints  of  missionaries  respecting  their 
want  of  success  in  foreign  lands,  and  to  show 
that  the  "  triumphs  of  God's  holy  word"  in 
distant  climes  are  not  altogether  such  as  to 
justify  so  many  confident  assertions  from  the 
mighty  spirits  of  Exeter  Hall. 

As  to  the  achievements  of  missionary  enter 
prise,  what  forlorn  accounts  are  regularly  re 
ceived,  and  how  often  has  the  terrible  fact 
been  recorded  of  Christianized  cannibals  de 
vouring  their  minister  !  In  India,  and  China, 
and  among  distant  islands,  missionary  zeal 
has  sacrificed  many  votaries  ;  and  the  accumu 
lated  offerings — often  made  up  of  widows' 
mites  and  gleanings  from  the  poor — have  been 
lavished  without  any  commensurate  results. 
Yet  the  delusion  is  still  kept  up  in  England 
and  America ;  and  though  pious  periodicals 
make  urgent  appeals  for  the  "  poor  heathen," 
and  continue  to  gloss  over  actual  failures,  yet 
some  of  these  papers  are  forced  to  admit  that 
there  are,  occasionally,  very  depressing  re 
ports. 

The  Missionary  Herald,  of  the  American 
Board  for  Foreign  Missions,  for  June,  1863, 
dolefully  gives  the  following  particulars : 

*  In  the  late  rebellion  in  the  United  States,  Bishop 
Pc!k,  a  Southern  churchman,  was  a  Lieutenant-Gene- 
ral  in  the  confederate  army,  and  was  killed  in  action 
on  Pine  Mountain  in  Georgia,  June  14th,  18&4. 

tThis  is  a  slight  abridgment  of  Lord  Shaftesbury's 
address  at  the  meeting  of  the  British  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society,  in  Exeter  Hall,  London,  on  May  4, 1864. 
— Author. 


"  That  only  seven  per  cent  of  the  population 
of  Ceylon  (2,000,000)  should  profess  Chris 
tianity,  and  that  only  two  per  cent  should  be  Re- 
formed  or  Protestant  Christians,  will  be  melan 
choly  facts,  pregnant  with  solemn  reflections 
to  many  of  our  readers.  But  so  it  is,  after  all 
that  has  been  done  to  preach  the  Gospel  and 
distribute  the  Bible.  The  darkness  of  the  pic 
ture  in  our  case  is  only  relieved  when  the  con 
trast  presented  by  continental  India  is  regard 
ed.  In  Ceylon,  it  may  be  said  that  .something 
has  been  done,  not  merely  to  sap  the  outworks 
of  heathenism,  but  to  build  up  the  edifice 
of  Christianity.  If  ours  is  the  day  of  small 
things,  what  are  we  to  say  to  India  (British  and 
independent)  with  her  two  hundred  millions 
against  our  two,  and  her  less  than  half  a  mill'oii 
of  Christians,  say  one  fourth  of  one  per  cent 
against  our  seven  per  cent !  When  we  say 
half  a,  million,  we  allow  for  130,000  Euro 
pean  Christians,  including  the  civil  service, 
army,  navy,  merchants,  planters,  etc.;  and  we 
give  the  most  liberal  margin  for  Romanists 
papal  and  Portuguese,  Syrian,  Armenian,  etc. 
Subjected  merely  to  the  numerical  test,  Chris 
tianity  may  be  said  to  have  made  but  small 
progress  either  in  India  or  Ceylon." 

What  an  overwhelming  waste  of  money 
these  missions  have  involved;  and  according 
to  the  Herald,  what  "  melanrhoH/ facts"  are  the 
return — two  per  cent  in  Ceylon,  and  less  than 
one  fourth  of  one  per  cent  in  India!  In  a 
subsequent  issue  of  the  same  journal,  giving 
an  account  of  the  Mahratta  Mission,  in  which 
during  the  then  last  fourteen  years  over 
$2  i,000  had  been  expended  by  one  society 
alone  in  efforts  at  conversion,  it  says,  "  Tho 
account  which  Mr.  Munger  (the  missionary 
gives  of  the  present  *tate  and  prospects  01 
missionary  efforts  in  the  Mahratta  Mission  i» 
not  enci>urar/iny.  Less  than  a  dozen  persons 
constitute  his  stated  Sabbath  audience,  and 
these  are  from  his  own  family,  and  the  Chris 
tian  household  connected  with  the  mission. 
His  opportunities  for  preaching,  during  the 
week  also,  he  says,  are  less  encouraging  than 
they  were  three  years  ar/o.  There  are  fewer 
persons  who  attend  upon  these  religious  ser 
vices,  and  they  manifest  much  less  interest  in 
the  facts  of  Christianity.  He  seldom  meets  the 
young  men  who  then  were  accustomed  to  come 
in  his  way,  and  seemed  disposed  to  become  ac 
quainted  with  Christian  ideas.  It  is  now  four 
teen  years  since  the  work  of  the  Gospel  was 
commenced  in  this  place.  Much  labor  has 
been  undertaken  :  we  have  much  des  red  suc 
cess,  and  still  we  sow,  and  pray,  and  hope.  I 
hope  I  may  be  able  to  do  something." 

And  this  is  all !  While  missionaries  "  hope 
and  pray  to  be  able  to  do  something,"  the 
poor  unconverted  heathen  die  and  go  to  per 
dition — according  to  Christian  theory — and 
the  God  who  has  promised  to  "  answer 
prayer''  will  not  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
but  will  witness  with  indifference  their  grad 
ual  approach  to  the  precipice  of  destruction ! 

With  respect  to  Chinese  missions,  another 
American  paper,  the  Herald  says,  "  The  pig 
tail  celestials  of  the  '  flowery  kingdom'  do 
not  take  very  kindly  to  Christianity.  With 
twenty-four  missionaries  and  twelve  native 
helpers  in  China,  the  American  Foreign  Mis- 


96 


EXETER    HALL. 


sion  organization  reports  the  'baptism  of  a 
first  convert,'  a  man  who  was  of  '  respectable 
condition.'  Millions  of  money  contributed  in 
the  United  States  to  convert  the  Chinese,  and 
the  result  is  a  solitary  baptism  !  Half  the 
money  would  have  secured  the  baptism  of  ten 
thousand  worse  heathens  here  at  our  own 
door."* 

From  this  statement,  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  the  twelve  "native  helpers"  are  inter 
preters — mere  hirelings — each  of  whom,  in 
the  intervals  of  service,  burns-incense  before 
a  "  family  god"  in  his  own  particular  Joss- 
House. 

British  journals  have,  time  after  time,  ad 
mitted  that  several  missions  to  Papists,  Jews, 
and  heathens  have  been  deplorable  failures. 
And  still  restless  visionaries  continue  to  en 
courage  the  religiously  romantic  to  wander 
'  from  pole  to  pole"  in  costly  and  wasteful 
attempts  to  supplant  one  absurdity  by  the 
propagation  of  another,  as  if  oblivious  of  the 
personal  and  intellectual  misery  that  broods 
around  the  thousands  of  heathens  at-  home. 

That  distinguished  London  clergyman,  Dr. 
Pusey,  admitting  the  folly  of  this  pious  ro 
mance,  says,  "  There  are  places  in  London,  as 

I  have  myself  seen,  where  for  generation  af 
ter  generation  the  name  of  Christ  has  never 
reached,   and  their    inhabitants   had    much 
better  have  been  bom   in  Calcutta  than   in 
London,  because    the    charity   which    sends 
forth  Christian  missionaries  would  the  sooner 
reach  them." 

So  much,  then,  for  my  Lord  Shaftesbury's 
Gospel  triumphs  in  foreign  lands." 

We  are  also  told  by  the  President  of  the 
Bible  Society,  that  the  ambassadors  from  Mad 
agascar  would  be  ready  and  rejoiced  to  carry 
back  to  their  own  land  a  narrative  of  the  tri 
umphs  which  they  had  witnessed  in  England. 
Now  for  a  recital  of  some  of  these,  which  are 

*Dr.  Livingstone. In  one  of  his  latest  works  on  Africa, 
said  tti&t  forty  missionaries  had  been  sacrificed  to  the 
deadly  climate  of  that  continent,  even  before  the  first 
heathen  had  been  converted ! 

As  a  set  off,  however,  to  the  depressing  missionary 
reports  given  in  this  chapter,  a  late  religious  journal 
(Feb.  1868)  states  that,  ''Sixty  years  ago,  there  were 
no  Protestant  1'hristiaus  in  Travancore,  Southern  In 
dia.  Now,  what  do  wo  behold  ?  There  are  at  this 
point  alone  27,000.  and  500  native  assistants,  and 

II  ordained  native  ministers.    At  Nagercoil,  rhe  prin 
cipal  station  in  the  district,  there  is  a  large  Christian 
village  of  800  souls,  a  printing  office,  girls'  boarding- 
school,  native  church,  and  boys1  school,  with  theologi 
cal  classes,  with  three  European  and  two  native  or 
dained  missionaries.    Wonderful  triumphs  of  grace  !" 

And  again:  "There  are  now  twenty-five  Protes 
tant  missionary  societies  that  are  laboring  in  India. 
Of  thwse,  three  are  organized  in  Scotland,  eight  in 
England,  one  in  Ireland,  four  on  the  continent  of  Eu 
rope,  and  nine  in  America.  These  societies  maintain 
about  550  missionaries,  and  expend  annually  in  that 
country  not  far  from  $1,850,000."— Montreal  Daily 
HVteoM,  Feb.  1868. 

These  successes,  after  sixty  years'  labor,  are  said  to 
be  "wonderful  triumphs  of  grace  I"  but  could  less  be 
expected  from  such  determined  efforts  to  Christian 
ize  f  And  what  more  meagre  result  could  be  reason 
ably  anticipated  where  550  active  intelligent  missiona 
ries,  sustained  by  an  annual  amount  of  ~$1 ,250,000.  are 
left  among  an  unreasoning  multitude — already  super- 
Ktiiionsly  prepared,  to  keep  them  from  relapsing  into 
their  native  paganism  ?  Triumphs  of  grace !  Why,  the 
first  Mormon  church  was  organized  only  thirty-eight 
years  ago,  (in  April,  1&30:)  it  has  sent  its  mUsionarles 
to  almost  every  part  of  the  civilized  world,  and  it  al 
ready  claims  about  800.000  converts.  "  rescued"  from 
Christianity  I  Are  not  these  triumphs  of  the  Mormon 
gospel  a  greater  wonder  ?— Author. 


alas !   too  openly  displayed  within  the  boun 
daries  of  the  Christian  city  of  London. 

Religion  in  that  great  metropolis  has  about 
one  thousand  costly  temples  to  accommodate 
a  wrangling  multitude  of  contending  sects, 
whose  mutual  denunciations  are  often  rather 
startling.  It  has  several  thousand  trained 
priests— divinely  chosen — who  are  willing  to 
manifest  great  anxiety  for  the  "  salvation  of 
sinners,"  and  conduct  them  by  various  short 
roads  to  heaven  for — ready  pay.  And  as  an 
evidence  of  the  great  benefit  arising  from  tho 
teaching  and  practice  of  these  davoted  men, 
there  are  to  be  found  among  the  vast  number 
of  metropolitan  sinners  one  hundred  thou 
sand  prostitutes,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  thieves,  robbers,  and  vagabonds  ; 
while,  according  to  the  estimate  of  an  eminent 
coroner,  Dr.  Lancaster,  the  result  of  a  hidden 
frailty  is  twelve  thousand  cases  of  infanticide 
annually.  There  is,  then,  a  large  portion  of  a 
standing  army  to  intimidate  into  submission 
a  majority  of  the  people,  who  would  other 
wise  resist  oppressive  laws  over  which  they 
are  denied  a  controlling  voice.  Then  there 
are  thousands  of  policemen  required  to  detect 
crime,  and  numerous  prisons,  and  judges,  and 
hangmen  to  deal  with  offenders  !  The  death 
penalty  is  strictly  scriptural ;  therefore  true 
mercy  is  not  yet  the  quality  of  Christian  legis 
lation. 

But  London  is  the  headquarters  of  the  state 
church.  What  evidence  can  that  church 
give  of  its  usefulness'?  While  some,  like 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  can  boast  of  imaginary 
triumphs,  that  particular  and  favored  corner 
of  the  "  Lord's  vineyard  "  can  exhibit  tangible 
trophies ;  and  while  like  a  mockery  it  can  af 
fect  to  despise  "  the  pomps  and  vanities  of 
this  wicked  world,"  its  two  princely  arch 
bishops  can  conscientiously  accept  and  divide 
with  each  other  £25,000  sterling,  (over  $120,- 
000)  annually  for  their  spiritual  superinten 
dence,  and  its  twenty-six  other  bishops  can  as 
unscrupulously  demand  and  distribute  among 
themselves,  in  the  same  way,  over  £135,000, 
(about  $650,000,)  as  compensation  for  their 
pious  services,  and  these  exorbitant  sums  are 
independent  of  what  is  derived  from  other 
numerous  sources  of  ghostly  profit.  Then 
add  to  these  the  immense  amount  paid  to  the 
increasing  horde  of  the  minor  clerical  adher 
ents  of  the  Established  Church,  and  its  use 
fulness  seems  to  consist  in  perpetuating  a 
monstrous  fraud,  and  in  impoverishing  the 
nation.* 

Let  the  ambassadors  from  Madagascar  wit 
ness  these  "triumphs,"  and  upon  their  return 
to  their  native  land,  where  even  pagan  savages 
do  not  as  regularly  die  of  starvation,  let  them 
narrate  the  sad  tale  of  the  ineffectual  effort* 
of  100,000  wandering  paupers  of '  London  in 

*  A  Philadelphia  paper  makes  the  following  remarks : 
"  PAYING  POSITIONS. — It  makes  people's  mouths  water 
to  think  of  the  revenue  of  some  of  the  English  eccle 
siastical  functionaries.  The  net  .revenues  of  tho 
Bishopric  of  London,  for  the  year  1865,  were  $100,3*5 
in  gold  ;  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  Cathe 
dral,  London,  $54,350  in  gold;  and  of  the  Dean  and 
Chapter  of  Westminster  Abbey,  $143,693  in  gold."(l!) 
Yet  this  very  paper  is  noted  for  its  obsequiousness  to 
the  horde  of  wealthy  sectarian  priests  in  that  Gospel- 
blighted  city,  and  does  not  utter  one  word  against 
such,  priestly  swindling.— Aultor. 


EXETER    HALL. 


97 


tlieir  feeble  endeavors  to  provide  food,  cloth-  j  and  you  have  nothing  on  which  to  rest  the  sole 
ing,  and  shelter.  Let  them  witness  the  strug-  of  your  foot."  We  lived,  he  said,  in  an  age  of 
gle  between  hope  and  despair  of  these  bap-  controversy  ;  he  did  not  regret  it,  for  ho 
tized  Christians,  and  how  sad  and  how  reluc- :  thought  that  the  more  they  inquired  into  and 
tantly  many,  very  many  of  these  let  loose  '  searched  the  Bible,  the  more  they  would  find 


their  last  hold  on  virtue  to  be  hurried  onward 
and  downward  to  crime  by  the  extortion  and 
rapacity  of  priestcraft,  and  by  the  usurpation 
of  a  selfish,  unfeeling  aristocracy.  Perhaps 
the  narration  of  these  triumphal  woes  might 
even  suffuse  the  eye  of  some  dusky  savage, 
find  tears  might  wear  a  channel  on  his  painted 
cheek.  Yet,  behold  !  See  our  Christian  bish 
ops,  and  priests,  and  merchant  princes,  and 
nobility  stand  by  and  look  complacently  on 
these  reputed  "triumphs,"  and  while  ostenta 
tiously  giving  a  liberal  donation  for  the 
"  spread  of  the  Gospel,"  dole  out  but  an  in 
significant  pittance  for  the  relief  of  their  fam 
ishing  countrymen. 


CHAPTER   XIX.* 
THE  president  took  his  seat,  and  all  seemed 


in  it  the  true  manna  of  the  soul,  that  which 
they  needed  for  time  and  eternity. 

After  this  specimen  of  prelatical  support 
and  assumption,  the  resolution  was  seconded, 
in  a  short  but  unmeaning  speech,  by  Lord 
Charles  Russell. 

A  Methodist  minister  was  then  permitted 
to  move  the  second  resolution ;  he  made  a 
very  prosy  display — a  mixture  of  pomposity, 
pedantry,  and  egotism,  which  was  highly  ap 
plauded  by  his  own  particular  denomination, 
but  which  otherwise  seemed  to  produce  a 
wearying  effect  upon  those  who  were  compel 
led  to  listen. 

He  was  followed  by  the  Bishop  of  Ripon, 
who  stated  that  he  had  observed  from  one  of 
the  papers  that  a  subscriber  for  the  present 
year  had  doubled  his  donation,  because' the 
Bible  had  become  so  much  dishonored.  He 
sympathized  with  that  feeling,  for  to  him  it 
was  a  positive  relief  to  express  his  unabated 


anxious  to  hear  the  speech  on  the  first  resolu-  i  confidence     and     undiminished     attachment, 
tion,  especially  as   it   was   to   emanate  from    when  the  Bible  had  been  dishonored   by  its 


one  of  the  mitred  faculty  whose  veneration 
for  "  The  Word"  had  gradually  increased  with 
his  salary,  and  whose  dower  as  a  prelatical 
bridegroom  of  the  church  militant  is  paid  to 
him  in  annual  installments  of  ten  thousand 
five  hundred  pounds  sterling,  (about  $52,000.) 
When  the  applause  subsided,  the  Lord 
Bishop  of  Winchester  said,  that  he  stood 
there  as  having  been  an  old  friend  of  the  socie 
ty  for  more  than  half  a  century,  and  had  the 
privilege  to  be  numbered  among  its  vice- 
presidents.  He  had  often  reflected  with  plea 
sure  upon  the  second  part  of  the  description  of 
tlieir  society,  [it  was  the  British  and  Foreign 
Bible  Society,]  and  when  he  had  heard  the  list 
of  places  in  which  the  word  of  God  had  been 
circulated  during  the  past  year,  the  importance 
of  the  foreign  branch  was  more  forcible.  Er 
ror,  like  some  of  the  disorders  which  affect  the 
human  body,  seemed  to  return  from  time  to 
time  with  periodical  recurrence.  The  errors 
of  the  present  were  the  errors  of  the  past. 
Tin-re  was  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  and  as- 


professed  friends.  This  innuendo  against  a 
brother  bishop — Colenso — was  received  with 
loud  applause.  But,  he  continued,  if  the 
Bible  had  been  dishonored  by  man,  it  has 
been  honored  of  God,  as  was  manifested  in  a 
greater  amount  of  contributions  than  the 
society  had  ever  before  received  in  one  year  ! 
It  was  to  him  delightful  to  think,  that  amidst 
all  the  contentions  and  division's  by  which  the 
visible  church  of  Chrisst  was  unhappily  so 
much  torn  and  divided,  there  should  be  one 
sacred  platform,  upon  which  Christians  of 
every  denomination  could  meet  together,  and 
where  all  could  agree  that  the  Bible  was  the 
word  of  God,  to  which  one  and  all  would 
unitedly  bow,  and  to  which  they  rendered 
homage  as  the  supreme  and  only  infallible 
source  of  all-saving  truth.  They  had  met 
there  because  they  believed  that  the  Bible 
was  the  most  blessed  gift  of  God  to  a  fallen 
world,  and  it  was  the  bounden  duty  of  all 
who  possessed  that  inestimably  precious  trea 
sure  to  endeavor  to  communicate  it  to  those 


suredly  nothing  new  in  skepticism  and  free  wno  had  it  not.  He  believed  that  they  had 
thinking.  The  Voltaires  of  another  country,  nothing  to  fear  from  the  attacks  to  which  the 
and  the  Paines  of  their  own,  or  the  daring  Bible  was  exposed ;  there  was  nothing  new 
spirits  of  modern  times,  over  whom  they  had  in  them,  nothing  that  had  not  been  often 
to  lament,  and  of  whom  they  were  ashamed,  started  before  ;  there  was  nothing,  he  believed, 
but  of  whom  they  were  not  afraid,  they  had  which  the  word  of  God  did  not  prepare  them 
said  nothing  in  that  day  which  had  not  been  i  to  expect  in  the  last  days.  As  was  once  said 
said  in  times  past.  The  Bible  and  the  society  j  to  one  who  was  sneering  at  the  word  of  God, 
had  suffered  from  recurring  attacks,  and  some-  and  ridiculing  the  Bible  as  an  imposture, 
times  among  other  disputes  the  Trinitarian  '  "  It  is  the  existence  of  such  men  as  you  that 
controversy  divided  their  friends.  He  wished, '  makes  me  believe  the  Bible  is  true  ;  for  the 
as  an  old  member  of  the  society,  very  humbly,  Bible  tells  us,  that  in  the  last  days  there  shall 
and  with  much  deference,  to  make  a  sugges- ,  come  scoffers,  and  if  it  were  not  for  such  per- 
tion — to  maintain  with  the  most  unflinching  sons  as  you,  we  should  seem  to  want  one  cre- 


resolution  the  supremacy  of  "  dicine  revela 
tion.  Unsettle  that  principle,  and  you  shake 
the  foundation  of  your  faith  ;  sap  that  pillar, 

*The  speeches  contained  in  this  chapter  are  an 
abridgment  of  those  delivered  at  the  annual  meeting 
of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  held  in  Exe 
ter  Hall,  London,  May  4th,  1864. 


dential  for  the  truth  of  the  Bible."  (!) 

Verily  if  this  be  a  valid  claim  for  the  truth 
of  Christian  inspiration,  it  is  one  easily  made, 
and  one  which  has  often  supported  other  tot 
tering  systems  of  error.  God,  continued  the 
Bishop,  had  made  the  Bible  to  be  its  own  wit 
ness,  and  had  thereby  placed  within  the  reach 


EXETER    HALL. 


of  the  humblest  inquirer  the  means  of  ascer 
taining  to  Ms  own  satisfaction  the  divine  au- 
'hority  of  the  message.  (?)  But  they  were  not 
to  give  up  external  evidence  by  which  it  may 
be  as  satisfactorily  established  that  the  Bible 
is  the  word  of  God ;  that,  with  respect  to  the 
Bible,  while  it  was  not  given  to  man  in  order 
to  teach  science,  there  was  not  a  single  sen 
tence  in  the  Bible  contrary  to  true  science ; 
and  that  whatever  appeared  in  science  to  con 
tradict  the  word  of  God  is  rather  to  be 
spoken  of  as  "oppositions  of  science  falsely 
so  called !" 

If  put  to  the  test,  the  dogmatism  of  this 
bishop  might  lead  him  into  difficulty  to  find  a 
proof  equal  to  his  flippancy  of  assertion.  How 
doctors  differ  !  particularly  those  who  claim  to 
be  genuine  successors — even  through  a  popish 
parentage,  of  the  inspired  twelve.  Yet  truly 
they  may  be  apostolic  in  one  sense ;  for  we 
find  by  the  revered  Gospel  records  that  their 
authors  were  by  no  means  unanimous  on  points 
of  faith  and  doctrine,  and  their  inspired  con 
tradictions,  as  to  time,  place,  circumstance,  and 
other  essentials,  have  been  a  heritage  of  per 
plexity  to  the  more  learned,  dignified,  and  as 
suming  "  right  reverend  fathers  in  God  "  of 
these  latter  days.  If  God  made  the  Bible  to 
be  its  own  witness  to  the  "  humble  inquirer," 
the  beneficed  bishops  can  not  claim  to  be  of 
that  class  :  for  no  other  body  of  men  in  Chris 
tendom  have  tended  to  mystify  the  alleged 
"  plain  meaning"  of  Scripture  more  than  the 
lordly  prelatical  teachers  of  Rome  and  Eng 
land.  Ah !  but  science  has  dared  to  witness 
against  inspiration !  Science,  that  never  errs, 
but  with  the  torch  of  truth  in  its  good  right 
hand  flashes  down  upon  the  deformity  of 
error,  and  upon  its  darkness,  its  mystery,  and 
its  pretension.  My  Lord  of  Kipon,  however,  is 
not  abashed  ;  he  still  hugs  this  "  best  gift  of 
God,"  witli  all  its  glaring  inaccuracies,  rather 
than  admit  the  opposition  of  this  "  science 
falsely  so  called." 

To  men  of  determined  faith,  nothing  is  truth 
that  will  expose  an  error  in  the  Bible.  Sim 
ilar  to  the  wisdom  of  an  Indian  prince,  who, 
it  is  said,  trampled  a  microscope  to  pieces 
because  it  revealed  to  his  astonished  view 
living  animalcula  in  the  food  and  water  from 
which  he  had  just  partaken.  Like  many  oth 
ers,  the  Bishop  of  Kipon  tells  us,  in  one  breath, 
that  the  Bible  was  not  given  to  man  to  teach 
science — evidently  in  doubt  himself  of  its  scien 
tific  correctness — and  yet  that  there  was  no 
thing  in  it  contrary  to  true  science  !  Now,  were 
philosophers  to  admit  such  an  anomaly  &»  false 
science,  we  wonder  where  it  could  be  found 
more  elaborately  displayed  than  among  the 
'•  sacred  pages"  of  "  God's  most  blessed  gift 
to  man." 

However,  the  bishops  are  not  all  so  incau 
tious.  Many  excuses  and  explanations  have 
been  framed  for  the  extraordinary  legends  of 
biblical  cosmogony  ;  and  if  the  superior  intel 
ligence,  or  more  general  investigation  of  the 
age  has  forced  a  reluctant  assent  from  many 
of  the  clerical  savants,  it  is  satisfactory  to  find 
one  so  spiritually  and  temporally  endowed  as 
the  right  honorable  and  right  reverend  the 
Lord  Bishop  of  London  yielding  so  gracious 
ly.  In  one  of  his  discourses,  published  about 


the  very  time  the  steadfast  Ripon  spoke  sc 
confidently  as  to  the  agreement  of  the  Bible 
with  true  science,  he  said,  "  it  is  satisfactorj 
to  feel  assured  that  no  clergyman  of  the 
Church  of  England  can  be  called  on  to  main 
tain  the  unwarranted  position,  which  indeed 
scarcely  any  hold,  that  the  Bible  is  an  infalli 
ble  guide  in  questions  of  physical  science.'' 
What  an  admission  !  Until  lately,  the  almost 
universal  orthodox  cry  resounded  that  the 
Bible  was  absolute  truth,  in  whole  or  in  part ; 
that  it  should  lead  in  science  as  in  principle's 
of  faith  ;  and  now,  alas!  for  its  worshipers  ! 
able  clerical  disputants  contend  for  and  against 
the  validity  of  its  science  and  its  inspiration, 
and  even  venture  to  question  its  entire  credi 
bility. 

The  Rev.  "  Cannon"  Stowell  next  addressed 
the  assemblage.  He  said,  that  although  it 
had  been  his  privilege  to  attend  the  anniver 
sary  meetings  of  that  institution,  he  never  re 
membered  to  have  taken  part  in  one  of  so  pro 
foundly  interesting  a  character,  especially  so 
on  account  of  the  gathering  assault  that  was 
making  on  the  great  citadel  of  their  faith — 
the  inspired  word  of  God.  Not,  alas !  simply 
from  without,  but  from  within  the  visible 
church.  If  there  were  any  originality  at  all 
in  the  attack,  it  was  not  found  in  the  argu 
ments,  but  in  the  men  who  employ  them.  It 
was  this  which  gave  such  an  apparent  authen 
ticity  to  those  arguments,  not  from  any  intrin 
sic  weight  that  belonged  to  them.  The  Bri 
tish  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  was  giving  such 
men  one  of  the  best  refutations.  It  was  show 
ing  that  to  simple,  humble,  hbnest.  believing 
men,  those  arguments  were  without  power  or 
conviction.  That  society  had  written  upon  its 
colors :  "  The  Bible,  the  whole  Bible,  and 
nothing  but  the  Bible  ;"  it  was  truth  without 
a  mixture  of  error.  He  considered  the  ques 
tion  of  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible  as  the  ques 
tion  of  the  day ;  the  one  on  which  his  reve 
rend  brethren  more  particularly  ought  to  be 
established.  He  thanked  God  that  that  socie 
ty  held  strenuously  to  the  whole  Bible ;  for  they 
never  could  sever  the  Old  and  New  Testa 
ments  ;  they  stood  or  fell  together.  The  New 
rested  on  the  shoulders  of  the  Old ;  if  they 
struck  down  one,  they  infallibly  brought  down 
the  other.  The  Old  Testament  was  the  divine 
porch  to  the  temple  of  the  New,  and  he  who 
did  not  enter  the  temple  by  the  front  door 
could  never  find  the  eternal  truths  of  God. 
The  Old  Testament  Scriptures  were  not  super 
seded  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  were.it  possible. 
more  intelligible,  more  impressive,  more  vital 
than  ever.  Then  let  "the  Bible,  the  whole 
Bible,  and  nothing  but  the  Bible"  be  the  watch 
word  of  that  society.  The  more  the  evidences 
of  Christianity  were  examined,  the  more  they 
would  be  found  impregnable,  ii  subvertible. 
The  martyrs  knew  the  Bible  to  be  true.  They 
had  heard  much  of  the  loaders  of  the  noble 
army  of  martyrs — their  (Jranmers,  Latimers, 
'and  Ridleys ;  but  they  had  heard  too  little  of 
poor  peasants,  and  mechanics,  and  simple  wo 
men  who  had  died  for  their  Bible.  What  a 
noble  testimony  it  was,  that  men  who  could 
not  write  for  it,  or  could  not  argue  for  it,  yet 
could  die  for  it ;  and,  by  dying  for  it,  could  give 
the  noblest  evidence  of  its  truth.  He  would 


EXETER    HALL. 


99 


beg  of  them  not  to  be  disturbing  their  minds 
by  the  doubts  and  objections  that  were  float 
ing  about ;  they  had  only  to  wait,  and  truth 
must  come  forth  triumphant  from  the  strug 
gle.  The  suggesting  difficulties  of  art,  his 
tory,  and  arithmetic  need  not  be  met  until 
they  were  worth  meeting ;  silence  was  often 
the  best  answer.  Let  scientific  objections, 
novel  speculations, and  vain  calculations  bend 
to  the  Bible ;  they  could  not  consent  that  the 
Bible  should  bend  to  them.  It  would  indicate 
a  sense  of  insecurity,  were  they  always  en 
deavoring  to  meet  objections.  One  beautiful 
passage  in  the  word  of  God  was  worthy  of 
all  acceptance  at  that  juncture,  "  Let  God  be 
true,  and  every  man  a  liar."  Let  critical  inge 
nuity  find  out,  as  it  could,  various  difficulties 
and  doubts,  yet  "  let  God  be  true,  and  every 
man  a  liar."  That  was  still  their  confidence. 
There  might  be  errors  of  translation  ;  passages 
that  ought  to  be  eliminated,  there  might  have 
been  introductions  of  slight  mixtukeu  ;  but  still, 
the  word  of  God  in  its  integrity,  as  it  came 
from  those  guided  by  the  hand  of  God,  con 
tained  "  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth."  (!)  "  They  should  spread 
it  wherever  man  was  found ;  they  should 
trust  in  the  Bible,  rest  on  the  Bible,  live  by  the 
Bible,  die  in  the  faith  of  the  Bible,  and  it  would 
carry  them  safe  to  a  land  where  there  was  no 
more  doubt  or  darkness." 

Were  it  necessary  to  obtain  the  testimony 
of  a  blind  believer  in  "divine  revelation."  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  one  more  explicit  or 
satisfactory  than  that  contained  in  the  priest 
ly  harangue  of  this  reverend  canon  of  the 
British  State  Church.  It  might  be  uncharita 
ble  to  assert  that  such  persons  are,  perhaps,  as 
much  influenced  on  behalf  of  the  Bible  by  the 
certainty  of  worldly  comforts  and  distinctions, 
which  it  has  insured  to  priests  as  a  class,  as 
they  are  by  the  promises  of  a  future  reward  in 
another  state  of  existence,  where  neither  bene 
fices,  pluralities,  n<.r  dignities  come  into  view 
to  distract  the  head  or  burden  the  conscience. 
But  when  we  reflect  that  it  is  comparatively 
but  a  short  period  back  in  history  since  the  cler 
ical  predecessors  of  the  reverend  canon,  like 
the  "sainted  I'ranmer,"  were,  for  the  sake  of 
earthly  endowments,  just  as  ready  to  rise  into 
oratorical  flights  concerning  the  infallibility 
of  popish  decrees  and  tradition  as  they  are 
now  to  denounce  the  "  Man  of  Sin,"  and  stu 
pidly  cry  out,  "  The  Bible,  the  whole  Bible,  and 
nothing  but  the  Bible,"  one  might  not  be  far 
astray  in  imputing  this  vacillating  zeal  to 
their  characteristic  greed,  instead  of  to  their  j 
more  particular  or  conscientious  regard  for 
truth.  For  gain,  theology  has  canonized 
many  popular  absurdities. 

But  then  we  are  told  that  there  is  "  nothing 
ori'/iiHtl"  in  the  attack,  nothing  novel  in  the 
arguments.  What  a  subterfuge,  what  conso-  ' 
l.ition!  It  would  indeed  be  a  lever  in  the 
hands  of  priests  were  they  truly  able  to  assert 
that  the  infidel  objections  of  the  pivsent  dayj 
were  but  novelties — witnesses  which  had 
never  testified  before ;  but  because  these  ob 
jections  are  nld,  and  have  thereby  acquired 
additional  force;  because  they  have  been  the 
protest  of  reason  against  superstition  century 
after  century,  even  from  the  beginning,  they 


are,  therefore,  according  to  the  decree  of  our 
present  clerical  prodigies,  to  be  considered  but 
mere  trivialities,  and  only  deriving  "  apparent 
authenticity"  on  account  of  having  been  re 
iterated  by  a  new  race  of  skeptics.  Another 
specimen  of  priestly  quibbling.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  chimeras  of  religion  have 
ever  been  made  to  appear  more  worthy  of  ven 
eration  while  shaded  and  festooned'  by  the 
cobwebs  of  antiquity. 

Were  the  objectors  to  Christianity  none 
but  "  simple,  humble,  honest,  believing  men," 
such  as  were  so  paternally  referred  to  by  the 
reverend  canon,  how  boastfully  the  clmrch, 
could  speak  of  the  intelligence  of  its  adher 
ents  ;  but  because  those  who  venture  to  judge 
the  Bible  according  to  its  wild  but  positive 
statements  and  extravagant  narration  are 
really  among  the  most  enlightened  and  dis 
criminating,  we  are  sagely  told,  that  the  "  best 
refutation"  of  their  arguments  against  revela 
tion  is  that  "  poor  peasants,  and  mechanics, 
ami  simple  women"  remain  steadfast  and  "  had 
died  for  their  Bible."  One  might  wonder  at 
the  temerity  which  could  lead  his  reverence 
to  try  to  intellectually  degrade  mecJianics  by 
including  them  in  such  a  classification.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  artisans  of  Great  Britain, 
like  most  of  those  in  other  countries,  are  gen 
erally  found  siding  with  the  intelligent  objec 
tors  to  a  domineering  superstition ;  and  a  large 
majority  of  those  very  mechanics  continue 
stubborn  and  determined  in  their  resistance  to 
clerical  oppression.  Of  this,  there  is  abundant 
proof.  So  much  for  the  mechanics.*  But  as 
suming  that  the  reverend  canon  had  confined 
himself  strictly  to  the  truth,  could  the  fact  of 
there  being,  or  having  been,  any  number  of 
"  poor,  simple,  humble  women,"  or  peasants, 
or  mechanics,  awed,  mystified,  or  deluded  by 
the  "  foolishness  of  preaching"  be  fairly 
claimed  as  a  refutation  of  the  sound  reason 
able  arguments  against  biblical  assertion  ?  It 
is  obvious  that  such  a  concession  to  the  misty 
logic  of  Exeter  Hall  would  grant  equal  sta 
bility  to  the  pretensions  of  popery  or  pagan 
ism,  or  of  any  other  ism  which  could  produce  a 
multitude  of  "  poor,  simple,  humble,"  ignorant 

*  In  an  article  on  "  The  Working  Classes  and  Chris 
tianity,"  the  London  Patriot  says :  '•  That  not  fire  per 
cent  of  the  working  classes — that  is,  of  the  true  haud- 
dicraftsmen,  from  the  skilled  optical  instrument 
maker  and  engineers,  down  to  the  bricklayers'  la 
borers — ever  enter  the  churches  and  chapels  with 
which  this  professedly  Christian  land  is  covered.  Per 
haps  it  is  true ;  certainly  if,  must  be  something  near  the 
truth.  Very  few  artisans  are  to  be  seen  in  the  tine 
churches  of  the  establishment,  or  in  the  chapels  of  the 
Coiifjregationaliflts.  In  some  parts  of  the  country,  and 
amongst  some  classes  of  laborers,  the  Wesleyans  have 
had  their  successes;  but  the  very  large  majority  of  at 
tendants  at  \Vesleyan  chapels  are,  we  take  it,  gathered 
from  the  small  shop-keepers  also.'' 

A  clergyman — the  Rev.  Edward  White — anxious  to 
discover  the  cause  of  this  •'  religious  indifference,"  ro- 
solved  to  go  among  the  working-men  and  ask  them 
personally,  "Why  they  never  went  to  church?"  lie 
gives  the  replies  as  taken  down.  The  following  are 
specimens:  "The  parsons  are  a  bad  lot."  "It's  their 
living,  that's  why  they  preach."  "  The  parsons  are  at 
the  bottom  of  all  the  villainy."  '•  They  preach,  but 
very  lew  of  them  practice."  "There's  not  a  worse 
class  of  men  on  earth  than  bishops  and  parsons."  "It's 
all  done  to  frighten  the  people,  and  to  keep  them 
down."  "  I  had  enough  of  religion  and  imprisonment 
at  the  Sunday-school?'  "I  went  to  church  to  get 
married,  and  that's  enough  for  me."  Such  ready  re 
plies  from  several  "  aimpte  rnecttaHtas"  are  full  of  meal 
lug. 


100 


EXETER    HALL. 


supporters.  If  simplicity  and  credulity  are 
sufficient  to  counterbalance  intelligence  and 
investigation,  then  Christianity  and  cognate 
forms  of  superstition  have  gained  the  day. 

The  Bible  is  such  a  "tower  of  strength"  to 
believers  that  its  arrogant  and  mercenary 
teachers  are  never  tired  of  asserting  its  "  im 
pregnability."  Assault  and  undermine  this 
crumbling  fortress  of  inspiration  as  you  may. 
its  reverend  Goliaths  will  rave  away  as  loftily 
as  ever,  and  furiously  brandish  their  broken 
weapons ;  and  as  they  proudly  strut  about  on 
the  ruins  of  the  "  older  and  outer  works"  of 
the  fated  citadel,  will  boastfully  shout  of  its 
"  insubvertibility,"  even  while  the  calm  and 
impartial  spectator  can  observe  the  sinking  or 
overturning  of  its  very  foundations. 

We  are  told  from  the  platform  of  Exeter 
Hall  that  the  "  suggesting  difficulties  of  art, 
history,  and  arithmetic  need  not  be  met ;  that 
silence  was  often  the  best  answer."  What 
an  evidence  of  weakness !  If  the  professed 
learning  of  our  mitred  heads  anVl  apostolical 
successors,  "  legitimate"  or  "  spurious,"  can 
suggest  nothing  better  than  that  science 
"  must  bend  to  the  Bible,"  it  is  but  too  plain 
that  they  are  reduced  to  the  last  extremity. 
They,  proudly  confident,  do  not  feel  themselves 
called  upon  to  argue  with  unbelievers ;  "  it 
would  indicate  a  sense  of  insecurity  !"  Pressed 
by  their  adversaries,  however,  they  now  admit 
that  "there  may  be  errors  of  translation !" 
How  many?  "  Slight  mistakes !"  What  num 
ber  ?  Superfluous  y>assa  ges !  To  what  extent  ? 
Alas !  how  reluctantly  these  forced  admissions 
are  laid  at  the  feet  of  truth — admissions, 
which,  to  make  but  a  few  years  since,  would 
be  looked  upon  a*  a  shipwreck  of  faith,  almost 
sufficient  to  insure  expulsion  from  the  fold. 
The  time  is  fast  approaching  when  the  hired 
advocates  of  a  withering  error  shall  be  exhibit 
ed  to  the  world  in  their  proper  character. 

While  Christian  teachers  are  thus  obliged 
to  change  their  position  and  resort  to  succes 
sive  new  modes  of  defense,  every  assertion  on 
behalf  of  their  "  divine  book"  seems  to  involve 
a  fresh  contradiction ;  and  when  confronted 
by  the  "  suggesting  difficulties  of  art,  his 
tory,  arithmetic,  and  science,"  our  pulpit 
demi-gods,  after  the  manner  of  their  pagan 
prototypes,  enshroud  themselves  in  mystery, 
and  cry  out  incoherently  from  behind  their 
shifting  cloud,  "  The  Bible,  the  Bible ;  let 
God  be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar." 

Other  speakers  followed  in  praise  or  defense 
of  the  "  grand  old  story  of  the  Pentateuch  ;" 
but  nothing  particular  was  offered — a  mere 
change  of  futile  assertions.  One  would  ex 
pect,  however,  that  from  such  a  celebrity  as  the 
Reverend  C.  H.  Spurgeon  some  powerful  rea 
sons  would  be  given  in  support  of  the  "  Book 
of  Books ;"  but  when  we  extract  his  ideas 
from  the  cloud  of  verbiage  which  he  exhibited, 
we  find  but  the  merest  trivialities. 

With  regard  to  objections  against  the  Bible, 
he  said,  that  for  his  part  he  did  not  under 
take  the  task  of  refuting  them,  because  he 
believed  the  logical  facul'y  in  him  was  too 
small ;  that  if  he  were  to  talk  against  arith 
metical  objectors,  he  should  be  like  the  boy  in 
the  churchyard  who  whistled  to  keep  his  cour 
age  up.  lie  did  not  think  it  was  his  particular 


work,  and  he  believed  that  ninety-nine  out  of 
every  hundred  Christians  were  not  called  foi 
the  defense  of  the  Gospel  against  infidel  ob 
jectors,  so  much  as  the  pressing  of  that  Gos 
pel  home  to  men's  hearts.  He  took  it  that 
while  it  wa-s  necessary  to  show  the  true  quali 
ty  of  the  Bible,  it  was  also  necessary  to  show 
the  true  answer  to  objectors.  His  metal  was 
of  such  a  kind  that  he  thanked  God  when  the 
adversaries  of  truth  were  loudest.  A  slumber 
ing  devil  was  more  to  be  feared  than  a  roaring 
devil.  Let  the  devil  roar  ;  he  should  but  wake 
them  up  from  their  slumbers,  and  make  them 
more  earnestly  contend  for  truth.  Why  were 
there  no  objections  to  the  Bible  twenty  years 
ago  from  high  and  eminent  places?  Because 
they  were  not  necessary  to  Satan's  ends.  (!)  He 
wished  them  to  go  and  evangelize  London,  to 
scatter  light  in  the  dark  alleys,  to  carry  the 
Gospel  to  the  South  Seas  and  Africa,  and  make 
the  whole  world  ring  with  it,  and  they  need 
not  stop  to  answer  objections.  .That  was  the 
best  logic — that  was  the  noblest  argument — 
the  application  of  the  word.  The  way  to  se 
cure  the  masses  would  be  to  secure  them  when 
young. 

He  remembered  being  greatly  puzzled 
when  he  was  a  child.  On  a  shelf  in  his 
grandmother's  parlor  was  a  little  vial,  con 
taining  an  apple  just  the  size  of  the  largest 
part  of  the  bottle.  He  got  the  vial  down,  and 
tried  to  find  out  how  the  apple  could  pos 
sibly  have  got  down  that  narrow  neck.  He 
thought  that  the  vial  must  have  had  a  false 
bottom.  But  it  happened,  quite  accidentally, 
that  this  great  mystery  of  nature  became  un 
raveled.  One  day,  as  he  walked  in  the  gar 
den,  it  occurred  to  him  that  his  grandmother 
had  put  a  little  apple  inside  the  bottle  while 
it  was  growing,  and  it  had  grown  there  to  its 
present  size.  He  could  not  but  t4iink*of  that 
while  standing  there.  They  could  not  get 
Snen  under  biblical  influence  very  readily 
after  they  were  grown  up  ;  but  if  they  could  be 
put  inside  the  bottle  when  they  were  little 
ones,  he  was  sure  they  would  be  following  the 
analogy  of  nature.  He  found  commentaries 
very  useful ;  but,  after  all,  many  a  text  that 
would  not  open  to  a  commentary  would  open 
to  prayer.  Just  as  the  stone-breakers  went 
down  on  their  knees  to  break' the  flints  on  a 
heap,  he  believed  they  often  broke  up  texts 
better  on  their  knees  than  in  any  other  posi 
tion 

They  should  cultivate  the  highest  reverence 
for  God's  word,  especially  as  to  their  obedience 
to  it.  The  Bible  was  to  be  the  great  pacifica 
tor  of  all  sects,  the  great  hammer  of  all 
schismatics.  The  Bible  was  to  be  the  end  of 
all  disunion. 

It  is  evident  that,  like  many  others,  this  last 
speaker  had  attained  his  popularity  by  special 
appeals  to  the  feelings,  instead  of  to  the  rea 
son.  The  fine,  studied,  pulpit  oratory  of  the 
day  is  mostly  a  grand  display  of  flashing 
metaphors,  a  meeting  of  fancy  and  ideality  in 
the  regions  of  cloudy  splendor,  depicting  as 
realities  the  castellated  piles  and  numerous 
beautiful  forms  that  rise  up  and  appear  in 
golden  and  roseate  hues  on  the  aerial  moun 
tains  of  the  imagination.  Here,  the  preacher 
is  at  home ;  here  he  delights  his  excited  audi 


EXETER    HALL. 


101 


ence.  But  let  him  descend  to  the  solid  earth, 
let  him  come  down  to  hard  facts,  and  he  may 
say  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  that  he 
dislikes  the  task  of  refutation.  Like  the  Mo 
hammedan,  ho  is  satisfied  with  the  inspira 
tion  of  hi*  book  ;  he  heeds  not  objections,  and 
is  only  anxious  for  its  circulation,  "  to  make 
the  world  ring  with  it." 

But  even  then,  notwithstanding  all  the 
glory  which  Exeter  Hall  has  tried  to  fling 
around  the  Christian  Scriptures,  we  obtain 
another  admission,  "  That  old  birds  can  not 
be  caught  with  chaff!"  The  masses  must  be 
secured  "when  young,"  or  not  at  all.  You 
must  catch  them,  and  boWe  them,  and  mould 
their  ideas  within  the  circle  of  theology,  and 
by  that  means  secure  a  new  generation  of 
Christians.  The  Jews,  the  Brahmins,  and  the 
Mohammedans  succeed  admirably  on  the 
same  principle ;  while  skepticism  alone  ob 
tains  its  reinforcements  from  the  vigorous 
ranks  of  maturity. 

Many  of  the  'sturdy  preachers  of  the  pres 
ent  day  were  hottled  into  theology  hy  their 
grandmothers,  and  they  have  never  yet  been 
uncorked.  These  are  the  class  who,  like  Spur 
geon,  overcome  theological  difficulties  on 
their  knees ;  and  the  flinty  text  that  will 
neither  yield  to  commentaries  nor  c  >mmon 
sense,  is  sure  to  be  reduced  to  powder 
beneath  the  potent  influence  of  faith.  These 
are  they  who  believe  that  the  Bible,  which 
has  been  for  generations  dividing  and  subdi 
viding,  and  which  has  been  claimed  as  their 
justification  by  opposing  ranks  of  furious 
zealots — truly  a  sword  on  the  earth — is  yet  to 
be  the  great  hammer  of  all  schismatics — the 
end  of  all  disunion !  Assertions  of  this 
character  will  gain  more  credence  upon  the 
exact  fulfillment  of  the  prediction  which 
states  that,  "  The  wolf  shall  lie  down  with 
the  lamb"  and  "  the  lion  eat  straw  like  an 
ox" !  But,  as  the  question  of  prophetical 
inspiration  remains  yet  undecided,  it  is  prob 
able  that  the  fulfillment  may  be  deferred  to 
an  indefinite  period. 

Every  one  of  the  speakers  at  Exeter  Hall,  on 
referring  to  the  Bible,  affirmed  its  full  and  en 
tire  inspiration  in  the  most  positive  manner. 
The  Bishop  of  Winchester  asserted  that  the  di 
vine  inspiration  of  the  Scripture  "  should  be 
maintained  with  the  most  unflinching  resolu 
tion  ;"  that  to  unsettle  that  principle  was  to 
shake  the  foundation  of  faith,  and  leave 
nothing  on  which  to  rest.  Strange  that  his 
immediate  predecessor.  Bishop  Law,  should 
have  held  sach  a  different  opinion.  This  pre 
late,  in  his  work  on  the  Elements  of  Christian 
Theol'igy,  says : 

"  When  it  is  said  that  the  Scriptures  are  di 
vinely  inspired,  we  are  not  to  understand  that 
God  suggested  every  word  and  dictated  every 
expression  ;  it  appears  that  the  sacred  penmen 
were  permitted  to  write  as  their  several  tem 
pers,  understandings,  and  habits  of  life  direct- 
eel  ;  and  that  the  knowledge  communicated  to 
them  by  inspiration  on  the  subject  of  their 
writings  was  applied  in  the  same  manner  as 
any  knowledge  acquired  by  ordinary  means. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  XUJI/HW*!  that  they  -were  thus  in 
spired  in  ever//  fact  which  they  related,  or  in 
every  precept  which  they  delivered." 


One  would  think  that  such  an  opinion  from 
a  mitred  head  and  learned  theologian  would 
have  a  great  tendency  to  "  unsettle  "  the  ques 
tion  of  scriptural  inspiration  and  to  "  shake 
the  foundation  of  faith." 

Another  bishop — Hinds  of  Norwich — says 

"  It  is  not,  therefore,  truths  of  all  kinds  which 
the  Bible  is  inspired  to  teach,  but  only  such 
truth  as  tends  to  re-'igious  edification  ;  and  the 
Bible  is  consequently  infallible  as  far  as  re 
gards  this,  and  this  'jilon-f."  This  is  another 
blow  against  plenary  inspiration,  and  leaves  us 
completely  in  doubt  as  to  whether  the  account 
of  the  creation  of  the  world,  or  scriptural  his 
tory,  be  true  or  false. 

Bishop  Hamden,  of  Hereford,  says  : 

"  So  independent  is  the  science  of  ethics  of 
the  support  and  ennobling  which  it  receives 
from  religion  that  it  would  be  nothing  strange 
or  objectionable  in  a  revelation  were  we  to  find 
embodied  in  its  language  much  of  the  false 
ethical  philosophy  which  systems  may  have  es 
tablished  !"  Archbishop  Whately  favors  this 
view  in  the  following  passage  : 

"  In  matters  unconnected,  indeed,  with  reli 
gion,  such  as  points  of  history  or  natural  phi 
losophy,  a  writer  who  professes  (as  the  apostles 
do)  to  be  communicating  a  divine  revelation 
imparted  to  him,  through  the  means  of^nira- 
cle,  may  be  as  liable  to  error  as  other  men. 
without  any  disparagement  to  his  preten 
sion  !" 

Le  Clerc,  a  great  Christian  writer,  in  his 
disquisition  upon  inspiration,  remarks :  "  It 
may  be  said  that  the  books  in  the  Jewish 
canon  ought  to  be  acknowledged  as  divinely 
inspired,  rather  than  the  Apocrypha,  that 
were  never  in  it.  I  answer,  first,  that  no 
clear  reason  is  brought  to  convince  us  that 
those  who  made  the  canon,  or  catalogue  of 
their  books,  were  infallible,  or  had  any  inspir 
ation  whereby  to  distinguish  inspired  books 
from  those  which  were  not  inspired." 

And  the  great  Neander  writes,  "  It  must  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  boons  which 
the  purifying  proc-  ss  of  Protestant  theology 
in  Germany  has  conferred  on  the  faith,  as  well 
I  as  science,  that  the  old  mechanical  view  of  in 
spiration  has  been  so  generally  abandoned!" 

Among  other  prominent  orthodox  writers, 
Arnold,  Coleridge,  Kingsley,  Morell,  Maurice, 
and  Macnaught  are  clergymen  who  sustain 
the  same  views. 

A  large  number  of  the  orthodox,  however, 
are  shocked  at  these  opinions ;  and  one,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Noble,  in  supporting  plenary  inspir 
ation,  asks : 

"  Now,  how  do  the  free  thinkers  receive 
these  concessions  so  liberally  made '!  The 
advocates  of  revelation  may  be  regarded  as 
saying  to  them,  '  See !  we  have  come  half 
way  to  meet  you  ;  surely,  you  will  not  obsti 
nately  refuse  belief,  now  that  we  require  you 
to  believe  so  little.'  What  does  the  free 
thinker  answer?  He  says,  'You  are  admit 
ting,  as  fast  as  you  can,  that  we  are  in  the 
right.  If  you,  who  view  the  subject  throuph 
the  prejudices  of  your  profession,  are  con 
strained  to  give  up  half  of  what  we  demand, 
unbiassed  persons  will  augur  from  the  ad 
mission  that  truth  would  require  a  surrendei 
of  the  whole.' "  The  reverend  gentleman  then 


102 


EXETER    HALL. 


exclaims,  "  No,  my  friends  and  brethren.  He 
who  would  effectually  defend  the  Christian 
faith  must  take  his  stand  on  higher  ground 
than  this.  What!  tell  the  world  that  to  es 
cape  the  increasing  influence  of  infidelity 
they  must  surrender  the  plenary  inspiration 
of  the  Scriptures !  As  well  might  we  tell 
them  that  to  obtain  security  when  a  flood  is 
rising  they  should  quit  the  top  of  a  moun 
tain  to  take  refuge  in  a  cave  at  its  base. 

"  Assuredly  this  is  a  state  of  things  calcu 
lated  to  fill  the  breast  of  the  sincere  and  hum 
ble  Christian  with  profound  concern  if  not  with 
deep  alarm.  On  the  one  hand,  he  beholds 
divine  revelation  assaulted  with  unprecedented 
fury  and  subtlety  by  those  who  avow  them 
selves  its  enemies  ;  on  the  other,  he  sees  it  half 
betrayed  and  deserted  by  those  who  regard 
themselves  as  its  friends.  Every  devout  be 
liever  in  revelation  feels  an  inward  predilec 
tion  for  the  opinion  that  the  inspiration  of 
a  divinely  communicated  writing  must  be 
plenary  and  absolute.  He  feels  great  pain  on 
being  told  that  this  is  a  mistaken  notion  ;  that 
he  must  surrender  many  things  in  the  sacred 
writing  to  the  enemy  to  retain  any  chance 
of  preserving  the  rest ;  that  he  must  believe 
the  writers  of  the  Scriptures  to  have  been 
liable  to  error,  as  a  preliminary  to  his  assur 
ance  that  the  religion  of  the  Scriptures  is  true. 
Surely,  every  one  whose  heart  does  not  take 
part  with  the  assailant  of  his  faith  must  be 
glad  to  be  relieved  from  the  necessity  of 
making  surrenders  so  fatal." 

If  men  trained  to  theology  and  "called"  to 
preach  the  Gospel  can  so  dispute  among  them 
selves  concerning  the  full  or  the  partial  inspi 
ration  of  the  Christian  Scriptures — a  very  es 
sential  matter — how  are  "  poor  peasants  and 
simple  women"  to  decide  the  question  ? 
Either  they  must  blindly  believe — as,  indeed, 
many  do— all  that  is  recorded  in  "  divine  rev 
elation"  about  the  creation  of  the  world,  the 
flood,  and  the  other  strange  events,  or  else 
doubt  the  whole.  It  is  positive  stupidity  to 
follow  priestly  "  blind  guides,"  who  are  them 
selves  merely  groping  in  the  dark,  not  only 
on  the  question  of  inspiration,  but  on  other 
points  of  equal  importance;  and  it  is  a  delu 
sion  to  countenance  any  longer  that  broad 
farce  of  "  infallibility,"  which  presumptuous 
teachers  still  set  up  for  their  respective 
churches.  With  all  the  glaring  defects  of 
their  religious  system,  these  men  periodically 
attend  at  Ex<'ter  Hall,  and  unblushingly  de 
mand  more  money  to  continue  the  circulation 
of  a  so-called  revelation,  as  being  "  truth 
without  a  mixture  of  error,"  but  which  "  sci 
ence,  art,  and  history"  have  proved  false,  and 
which  has  been  already  rejected  as  spurious 
by  a  vast  number  of  the  thoughtful  and  intel 
ligent  in  every  part  of  the  world. 

As  an  evidence  of  public  opinion  on  this 
subject,  about  the  time  the  great  Bible  Society 
meeting  took  place,  the  London  Morning  Mail 
published  the  following  remarks: 

"  The  May  meetings  of  Exeter  Hall  are  now 
in  full  blast.  Sanctimonious  pride  walks  the 
stage,  and  blatant  hypocrisy  invokes  the  sym 
pathy  and  material  aid  of  assembled  thou 
sands  for  objects  impossible  of  accomplish 
ment  Under  pretense  of  forwarding  these 


objects,  a  host  of  secretaries  replenish  theii 
purses,  and  missionaries,  ministers,  and  agents 
of  all  sorts  draw  fat  and  easy  salaries.  From 
real  misery  at  their  very  doors,  these  men  turn 
away,  and  fix  their  gaze  on  objects  perfectly 
ideal.  As  to  so-called  missionary  operations 
in  other  countries,  experience  has  shown  how 
little  dependence  is  to  be  placed  on  the  repre 
sentations  made  by  saintly  secretaries,  and  by 
the  pious  movers  and  seconders  of  resolutions 
who  figure  on  these  occasions.  Missionaries 
are  not  content  merely  to  thrive  upon  the  cre 
dulity  a  portion  of  the  British  public  afford 
them.  In  New-Zealand,  as  we  know,  they 
have  been  the  great  instigators  of  the  Maori 
insurrection ;  in  connection  with  the  Chinese 
rebels,  they  have  played  a  part  by  no  means 
creditable,  and  have  sought  to  mislead  public 
opinion  as  to  the  objects  had  in  view  by  those 
murdereis  and  cut  throats  called  the  Taepings. 
As  to  the  home  objects  represented  by  the  Ex 
eter  Hall  fanatics,  we  would  only  be  too  glad 
to  point  to  any  results  proportionate  to  the 
amount  of  money  placed  at  their  disposal.  It 
is  humiliating  to  see  such  a  superabundance 
of  false  sentimentality  in  the  community — 
such  readiness  on  the  part  of  thousands  to  be 
come  the  dupes  of  designing  men.  As  long 
as  a  set  of  benighted  spinsters  can  be  found  to 
contribute  to  the  support  of  these  vagrant 
Spurgeons,  so  long  must  the  Exeter  Hall  gath 
erings  prosper.  They  enjoy  a  certain  amount 
of  excitement,  and  pay  the  price.  We  should 
be  glad,  indeed,  could  we  disabuse  them  of  the 
idea  that  Exeter  Hall  is  the  straight  road  to 
heaven." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ALTHOUGH  the  meeting  in  the  regulai  Bap 
tist  church  failed  to  appoint  a  delegate  to  the 
great  Bible  Society  anniversary  at  Exeter 
Hall,  yet,  as  has  been  noticed,  it  did  not  deter 
the  rival  heads  of  the  antagonistic  sects  from 
making  their  appearance  on  that  occasion  ; 
and  it  singularly  happened  that,  from  the  unu 
sual  crowd  of  clergy  and  foreigners,  the  mod 
erator,  Dr.  Buster,  was  forced  to  take  a  chair 
between  his  reverend  opponents.  James  Baker 
and  Jonah  Hall.  This  was  rather  a  trying 
position  ;  there  could  be  no  friendly  side- whis 
pers  between  them  as  among  others.  Within 
two  inches  of  his  right  elbow,  his  Methodistic 
friend  Baker  sat  rigid  and  stern  ;  while  equal 
ly  ckse,  on  the  other  side,  the  humorous  Jonah 
seemed  to  enjoy  his  proximity  to  so  much 
greatness :  and  though  he  tried  hard  to  as 
sume  the  conventional  gravity  of  "  the  cloth," 
yet  occasionally  his  eyes  would  turn  obliquely 
on  the  portly  form  of  the  moderator,  and  a 
faint  smile  would  appear  as  he  thought  of  his 
late  discomfiture. 

The  doctor,  indeed,  could  have  wished  him 
self  any  where  else  ;  he  looked  crest-fallen,  and 
it  was  to  him  a  particular  trial  of  human  na 
ture  to  wear  that  lamb-like  expression  so  re 
quisite  under  the  converging  gaze  of  Christian 
eyes  from  all  quarters  of  the  great  building, 
lie  felt  greatly  mortified,  especially  as  he  knew 
that  a  crowd  of  admiring  friends  and  many 
devoted  ladies  wished  to  hear  his  sonorous 


EXETER    HALL, 


103 


voice  on  behalf  of  the  Bible ;  but  the  mean  i  stretched  his  lazy  length  across  the  sunlil 
jealousy  of  the  very  men  between  whom  he  doorway,  and  William,  who  was  more  delicate 
was  now  placed  prevented  the  delivery  of  the  than  ever,  laid  his  head  in  Hannah's  lap,  and 


eloquent  speech  which  he  had  prepared  with 
such  labor,  and  had  saved  infidelity  from  the 
withering1  rebuke  which  he  felt  himself  able 
to  give,  and  which  might  have  exalted  him  in 
the  opinion  of  the  foreign  deputations  of  true 
believers.  Yet,  were  there  no  such  jealousy, 
were  that  obstacle  to  his  usefulness  removed, 
and  were  he  even  surrounded  on  that  platform 
by  such  trusty  male  and  female  saints  as  usu 
ally  greeted  him  in  the  pleasant  parlor  of  his 
subordinate,  the  Rev.  Alexander  Campbell — it 
would  not  avail.  He  could  not  command  a 
word  or  arrange  an  idea  on  any  subject 
while  there  was  one  man  unexpectedly  present 
who  he  believed  could  guess  at  his  thoughts, 
who  knew  something  of  his  motives,  and  who 
might  have  witnessed  an  act  which  an  enemy 
could  turn  greatly  to  his  disadvantage.  That 
man  he  feared  and  hated,  and  were  it  possible 
to  have  annihilated  him  with  a  scowl,  the  rev 
erend  doctor  would  have  done  so. 

Almost  immediately  in  front  of  the  platform, 


looked  up  through  the  lattice-work  at  the 
bright  blue  sky,  and  watched  the  flitting 
clouds  as  they  passed  along  ;  while  she,  with 
monotonous  voice,  read,  for  their  mutual  edifi 
cation,  passages  from  her  treasured  little  book, 
the  PUyriin's  Progress.  Now  and  then,  aa 
some  particular  part  concerning  Christian  or 
Evangelist,  or  some  other  of  the  many  charac 
ters  depicted  in  that  popular  similitude  needed 
explanation,  and  while  still  looking  up,  he 
would  ask  Hannah  ;  and  often  after  she  had 
tried  to  unriddle  the  mystery,  she  would  leave 
it  more  unintelligible  than  ever.  She  seemed, 
as  usual,  to  be  wonderfully  interested  in  the  re 
hearsal  of  the  narrative  ;  she  must  have  read 
it  over  and  over  more  than  twenty  times,  and 
he  would  be  a  fool  indeed  who  could  seek  to 
rob  her — simple  soul — of  the  pleasant  emo 
tions  which  its  perusal  afforded  by  trying  to 
convince  her  that  it  had  no  reality.  There 
are  certain  minds  more  pleased  with  the  sha 
dow  of  mystery  than  with  the  broad  light  of 


Martin  Mannors,  and  his  wife,  and  daughter  |  naked  fact. 

After  a  long  pause  in  his  inquiries,  during 
which  William  seemed  to  have  been  specula- 


were  seate:!.  Mr.  Capel  and  Samuel  Styles  were 
also  present.     Mr.  Mannors  seemed  in  a  com 


placent  study  of  the  different  faces  before  him, 
arid  no  one  listened  with  greater  attention  to 
the  several  speeches  delivered  on  the  occasion. 
But  when  his  look  happened  to  rest  for  a  mo 
ment  on  the  moderator's  face,  that,  dignitary 
appeared  to  be  affected  with  a  nervous  twitch 
ing  of  the  right  eye,  which  caused  him  repeat 
edly  to  adjust  his  gold  mounted  glass  as  if 
merely  desirous  of  scanning  the  vast  assembly. 
His  situation  was  evidently  very  unpleasant, 
yet  the  doctor  sustained  the  part  he  was  forced 
to  a?t;  and,  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  when 


again  in  the  house  of  his  friend,  the  pastor  of 

St.  Andrews,  the  moderator  once  more  wore 

the  saintly  smile  of  a  martyr.     He  expressed 

the  satisfaction  he  had  felt  in  having  been  per-    "  Why  doesn't  pa  pray — he  never  prays. 

mitted  to  take  even  a  secondary  part  at  the  j  he  wicked,  and  won't  he  go  to  heaven  1" 


ting  on  the  height  of  the  clouds  or  the  depth 
of  the  blue  sky,  he  suddenly  asked  : 

"  Hannah,  why  does  ma  pray — why  do  you 
pray  ?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  from  the  book,  and,  look 
ing  down  at  his  pale  face,  said  :  "  Pray  ?  Why, 
God  tells  us  to  pray,  we  must  pray  for  what 
we  want ;  we  can't  get  to  heaven  unless  we 
do  so.  Wicked  people  never  pray." 

"Never?  Then  won't  God  give  us  what 
we  want,  or  let  us  go  to  heaven  unless  we 
pray  ?" 


"  No;  never.    We  must  all  pray — all,  every 
one." 
William  thought  awhile,  and  then   said: 


Is 


great  meeting  ;  it  was  the  part  he  most  admir 
ed.  To  sit  at  the  feet  of  the  eminent  Christ  inns 
who  had  spoken,  and  to  hear  and  learn  from 
them  was  most  in  accordance  with  his  own 
feelings  ;  and  as  he  lisped  Gospel  promises  to 
the  pious  sisters  who  were  present,  he  rubbed 
his  hands  in  ecstasy  and  blessed  the  Lord  for 
what  had  been  done  that  day  in  Exeter  Hall 
for  the  further  spread  of  the  "glorious  Gos 
pel." 

While   Mr.  Mannors  and   his  friends  were 


listening  to  the  prominent  and  distinguished  j  indeed.' 


Hannah  hesitated  for  a  time,  and  then  re 
plied,  "  Oh !  your  pa  will  soon  pray,  God 
will  make  him  do  so ;  he  will,  and  then,  when 
you  die  you'll  see  him  with  ma  in  heaven." 

"  Will  Pop  be  there,  too '!" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Mary  will  be  up  there  with  the 
angels." 

"  Why  doesn't  God  make  every  one  pray, 
why  didn't  he  make  every  body  good  ?" 

"Oh!  well,"  said  Hannah,  pausing,  and 
somewhat  perplexed,  "  I  don't  know — I  don't, 


expounders  of  the  Bible  at  the  great  meeting, 
Hannah  and  William  remained  at  home;  and 
after  she  had  bustled  through  her  morning's 
work,  and  put  things  in  order  all  through  the 
house, she  and  William — and  John  Bunyan  of 
course — retired  from  the  busy  outer  world,  mid, 
like  humble  pilgrims,  took  refuge  in  the  sum 
mer-house.  There,  surrounded  with  young, 
aspiring  vines  and  tender  creeping  'plants, 


they  sat,  side   by  side,  on   a   low  seat.     The 
young   flowers  in  the  pleasant   garden   bent  I  say 
gently  as  the  fragrant  air  passed  through  their  |      But 


"  If  pa  doesn't  pray,  then  he  won't  go  to 
heaven  V" 

"  No." 

"  Nor  Pop  ?" 

"  Nor  any  body?" 

"  Then  I  won't  die — I  don't  want  to  go  to 
heaven  !" 

"  Oh  !  dear  child,"  said  she  tenderly,  "  don't 
say  that ;  'twould  be  very,  very  wicked  not  to 
wish  to  go  to  heaven.  What  would  your  ma 


blushing  petals,  and  the  duU  sound  of  busy 
life  from  the  city  reached  the  ear  like  the 
lulling  flow  of  distant  waters.  Flounce 


William  heeded  not ;  he  was  again 


busy  watching  the  clouds,  or  looking  for  some 
opening  in  the  sky  to  peer  right  into  paradise. 
In  a  short  time  he  aguiu  asked : 


104 


EXETER  HALL. 


"  Is  every  tody  in  lieaven  good ;  do  no  wick 
ed  or  bad  people  ever  get  there  ?" 

"  Impossible !"  said  Hannah,  astonished, 
"  impossible  !  God  lives  in  heaven,  that's  his 
home,  and  all  his  bright  and  holy  angels  are 
up  there  with  him.  All  the  saints,  and  all  the 
martyrs  and  poor  pilgrims,  and  all  the  holy 
people  that  ever  died  are  in  heaven  with  God  ; 
your  ma,  and  you,  and  1  will  be  there ;  and  I 
hope  your  pa,  and  Miss  Mary,  and  a  great 
many  others ;"  and  then,  raising  her  extended 
hands  and  looking  fervently  upward  with  a 
bright  smile,  she  continued :  "  Oh  !  yes,  up,  up 
on  high  with  God,  forever,  and  ever,  and 
ever." 

An  expression  of  solemnity  rested  upon  the 
boy's  face  as  he  still  inquired  :  "  Are  you  sure 
that  no  bad  people  ever  got  into  heaven  or 
ever  lived  there,  Hannah  T' 

"  Oh !  nothing  sinful  or  wicked  can  be 
where  God  is — nothing !  impossible  !  every 
thing  in  heaven  is  so  good  and  happy." 

"  But  ma  says  that  God  is  everywhere  ; 
that  he  is  on  this  earth,  which  she  says  is  so 
very  wicked,  and  that  we  are  very  wicked 
too." 

"Oh!  yes,"  followed  Hannah  somewhat  ab 
stractedly  ;  "  yes,  we're  very,  very  wicked 
indeed." 

"  And  then,"  continued  William,  "  how 
did  Satan  and  all  his  wicked  angels  get  into 
lieaven?  Ma  told  me  that  they  once  lived 
there  with  God,  and  that  they  got  very 
wicked,  and  that  there  was  a  war  in  lieaven, 
and  that  God  sent  Michael  and  his  angels 
to  fight  with  them,  and  then  that  God  cast 
Satan  and  his  angels  down  out  of  heaven. 
Didn't  these  wicked  angels  once  live  in 
heaven,  and  wasn't  there  fighting  up  there, 
too '!" 

Hannah  now  looked  more  confounded  than 
ever ;  she  laid  her  book  aside  and  remained 
thoughtful  for  a  time,  while  the  boy's  large, 
inquiring  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  hers. 

"  Well,  dear  child,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know 
Low  these  wicked  ones  got  into  heaven ;  they 
were  there  I  suppose,  for  the  Bible  says  so. 
Tis  a  mystery  we  can't  understand,  but  it  will 
be  all  made  plain  to  us  some  day." 

With  this  comfortable  assurance,  she  re- 
eumed  her  book,  but  not  to  read ;  she 
looked  over  a  few  pages  here  and  there,  then 
closed  it  again,  and  commenced,  in  a  soft,  low 
voice,  to  sing  one  of  her  favorite  hymns — 

"  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 

Where  saints  immortal  reign ; 
Infinite  clay  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

"  There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers ; 
Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours." 

She  had  scarcely  finished  the  second  verse, 
before  William's  weary  lids  began  to  close, 
and  as  the  last  words  he  heard  distinctly  were 
about  the  "  heavenly  land,"  he  went  away 
there  in  his  mid-day  dream — even  Flounce 
followed  him.  There  was  soft,  heavenly  mu 
sic,  and  he  wandered  about  those  "  sweet 
fields"  with  his  father  and  mother,  and  Mary 
and  Hannah,  and  he  told  them  how  blissful  he 


felt  to  have  them  with  him  at  last,  and  thai 
they  should  never,  never  go  back  to  earth, 
never  more  be  wicked,  nor  ever  part  again. 

While  William  thus  slept,  Hannah,  poor 
kind  creature,  tried  not  to  disturb  his  quiet 
slumbers.  She  watched  the  pale  and  wearied 
features  of  the  sleeping  boy,  like  some  hover 
ing,  compassionate  angel— yet  only  an  angel 
of  the  earth— and  for  nearly  two  hours 
longer  she  felt  almost  perfect  happiness, 
while  softly  singing  hymn  after  hymn,  and 
verse  after  verse,  in  her  own  simple  way,  and 
comforting  herself  with  delightful  thoughts 
of  the  pilgrim's  land,  of  which  her  anticipa 
tions  led  her  to  think  that 

"  No  chilling  winds  nor  poisonous  breath, 

Can  reach  that  healthful  shore; 
Sickness  and  sorrow,  pain  and  death, 
Are  felt  and  feared  no  more." 

She  ceased  at  last,  and,  as  she  closed,  her 
voice  died  away  with  the  sound  of  the  eve 
ning  bells  from  the  distant  city. 

"  Why,  Hannah,  my  goodness !  how  still  you 
keep,"  said  Mrs.  Manners  looking  into  the  door 
way;  she  had  stepped  lightly  along  the  garden 
walk  and  gave  her  maid  such  a  pleasant  sur 
prise.  "  And  is  my  poor  boy  sleeping  V"  said 
she,  stooping  and.  tenderly  kissing  his  fore 
head.  And  then,  looking  affectionately  a*. 
Hannah,  who  had  watched  over  his  slumbers, 
cried,  "  0  you  good,  kind,  loving  Hannah  I 
God  bless  your  tender  heart !  what  should  we 
do  without  you  ?  Wake  up,  my  dear,"  said  she, 
gently  taking  William's  hand,  "  wake  up,  un 
til  I  tell  you  all  about  what  we  saw  to-day  in 
the  city." 

"O  ma!"  said  William,  stretching  him- 
self,  "  I  have  had  such  a  nice  dream,  I  never 
wanted  to  wake  again ;  but  where's  Pop  ?" 
said  he,  looking  around. 

"  Here  I  am,  you  lazy  fellow,"  said  Mary,  gli 
ding  in  with  the  sunlight.  "  Have  you  been 
sleeping  all  the  time  we  were  away  ?"  She 
seated  herself  by  his  side,  and  ran  her  fingers 
through  his  brown  silken  hair. 

"  Indeed,  he  has  not,"  said  Hannah  ;  "  we 
have  had  such  a  long  talk  about  many  things 
— things  that  you  should  talk  about  sometimes, 
Miss  Mary  ;  and  then,  when  he  grew  tired,  he 
slept  a  little,  while  I  sang." 

"  I'm  sure  you  were  very  happy  ;  of  course 
you  were."  said  Mrs.  Mannors ;  "  the  Lord 
was  with  you.  I  left  you  under  his  protecting 
care  during  my  absence.  And  then  we  had 
such  a  glorious  time  in  Exeter  Hall — such  a 
crowd  of  people  ;  such  a  number  of  ministers 
and  pious  foreigners.  The  work  of  the  Lord 
has  surely  prospered  this  day — I  know  it. 
But  let  us  go  in,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
the  meeting  after  tea." 

Mary  and  William,  followed  by  Flounce,  led 
the  way  to  the  house,  while  Mrs.  MannorH 
and  her  faithful  maid  walked  slowly  after, 
talking  about  the  great  sums  which  had  been 
poured  that  day  into  the  treasury  of  the  Lord 

Mr.  Mannors  returned  very  much  pleaseu 
that  he  had  attended  the  ffreat  Bible  meeting  , 
he  had  heard  all  that  the  principal  ministers 
of  different  sects  had  to  say  concerning  the 
spread  of  the  Gospel ;  he  had  heard  their  fu 
tile  insinuations  against  skepticism,  and  their 
admission  of  its  growth  and  influence  it. 


EXETER    HALL. 


105 


high  places,  among  eminent  men — even 
within  the  "  visible  church"  itself!  And  he 
felt  satisfied  that,  though  they  spoke  of  the 
present  and  future  with  such  lofty  confidence, 
they  sometimes  i'eared  that  the  whole  struc 
ture  of  Christianity  was  growing  more  and 
more  insecure.  Samuel  Styles  did  not  ac 
company  them  to  Hampstead,  but  went  to  the 
lied  Lion,  where  he  agreed  to  meet  Mr.  Man 
ners  the  next  day. 

Mr.  Capel,  of  all  others,  seemed  to  be  the 
most  dissatisfied.  He,  too,  had  heard  all  the 
great  speeches  and  all  the  news  which  Mrs. 
Mannors  had  emphasized  as  "  glorious  ;"  still 
he  seemed  demure  and  thoughtful;  even  Mr. 
Manuors  felt  a  share  of  surprise,  and  once  or 
twice  tried  to  rally  him,  but  with  little  effect. 
Latterly,  indeed,  an  occasional  abstraction  was 
observable,  but  it  was  of  short  duration  ;  his 
natural  cheerfulness  was  like  a  rainbow  over 
every  cloud ;  but  now  the  cloud  was  there, 
and  no  rainbow  could  be  seen,  nor  glimpse 
of  blue  sky  beyond.  Mrs.  Mannors  also  no 
ticed  his  unusual  gravity,  and,  of  course,  at 
tributed  it  to  religious  emotion.  He  was.  no 
doubt,  pondering  upon  some  of  the  truths  he 
had  heard  that  day,  and  was  probably  affected 
concerning  the  state  of  the  perishing  millions 
which  he  had  been  told  were  yet  in  heathen 
ish  darkness — doomed  to  eternal  misery. 
Such  a  state  of  mind,  she  thought,  was  all 
very  proper  in  a  minister ;  she  was  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise ;  for,  contrary  to  all 
expectation,  she  had  begun  to  think  that  he 
was  not  quite  as  diligent  as  he  might  be ; 
but  lest  she  should  misjudge  one  of  God's  ser 
vants,  she  only  very  cautiously  mentioned  her 
doubts  to  one  confiding  heart — to  Hannah 
alone;  and  now  again  she  believed  that,  in 
answer  to  her  prayers,  God  was  about  to  man 
ifest  himself  and  increase  the  usefulness  of 
one  of  his  human  agents — of  this  she  had  no 
doubt. 

Mr.  Capel  sat  near  the  open  window,  and 
watched  the  beautiful  sunset,  and  saw  the 
evening  shadows  gather  around  the  drooping 
flowers  ;  the  distant,  motionless  cloud  looked 
like  a  mountain  of  sapphire  in  the  waning 
red  light.  How  peacefully  nature  approached 
with  its  season  for  slumber,  and  how  he 
envied  the  calm  which  seemed  to  rest  upon 
the  inanimate  world.  But  his  mind,  at  that 
still  hour,  was  like  the  stormy  ocean,  and  his 
heart  was  heavy  in  anticipation  of  the  ap 
proaching  trials  which  he  feared  he  had  to 
undergo.  Still  he  had  courage  to  face  any 
ordeal  in  a  just  cause  ;  but,  just  or  unjust,  he 
felt  that  a  trial  of  some  kind  was  unavoidable. 
Then,  again,  he  thought  it  might  be  kept  off, 
lie  would  try  and  avoid  a  collision  ;  and  then, 
when  he  thought  of  his  position — a  reputed 
preacher  of  the  Gospel — he  drew  a  heavy 
eigh,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "  It  is  inevi 
table." 

He  was  now  alone,  and  he  heard  Mrs.  Man- 
nors's  voice  in  an  adjoining  room.  She  was 
busy  giving  a  relation  of  all  she  had  seen  and 
h«-a:d  that  day  at  Exeter  Hall;  she  dwelt 
esp<rh\lly  upon  the  many  remarks  made 
Kgainst  the  growing  infidelity  of  the  day.  and 
how  the  "  word  of  God"  was  to  triumph 
over  every  adversary.  But  to  him  who  went 


j  there  too  in  search  of  hope,  how  different  was 
the  feeling !  In  support  of  the  Bible,  lit 
was  treated  to  a  rehash  of  flippant  assertions 
and  a  round  of  the  usual  orthodox  assump 
tions.  The  clerical  defenders  of  revelation 
did  not  attempt  to  establish  scriptural  truth 
on  the  basis  of  reason  or  science,  but  more  as 
the  result  of  faith  evidenced  in  the  feelings 
and  affections  of  "poor  peasants  and  simple 
women ;"  while  science,  art,  history,  and  arith 
metic  were  frowned  upon  as  the  trusty  alliea 
of  skepticism. 

"  You  have  become  more  serious  .since  your 
visit  to  Exeter  Hall,"  said  Mr.  Mannors 
kindly,  as  he  placed  his  chair  near  him.  "  You 
are  not,  I  presume,  entirely  satisfied  with  all 
you  heard  on  the  occasion." 

"  To  be  candid,  I  am  not." 

"  Well,  I  can  not  say  that  I  feel  disappointed. 
Of  course,  we  could  not  expect  to  hear  a 
learned  defense  of  the  Scriptures  at  such  a 
time ;  but  one  would  think  that  we  should 
have  heard  better  reasons  for  a  continuation 
of  the  heavy,  voluntary  tax  on  the  pockets  of 
believers.  Circulate  the  Scriptures,  is  the 
great  cry  at  Exeter  Hall ;  but  the  speakers  en 
tirely  failed  to  prove  that  that  circulation  had 
resulted  in  any  permanent  benefit,  so  far, 
either  to  Jew  or  heathen,  or  even  to  the  na 
tions  so  long  under  its  influence.  The  priests 
alone  are  the  great  gainers.  It  might  not  be 
too  much  to  assert  that  the  united  incomes 
and  salaries  of  the  state  bishops,  and  priests, 
and  other  clergymen  on  the  platform  to-day, 
would  be  more  than  sufficient  to  rid  one  of  our 
most  populous  parishes  of  the  want  and  near 
ly  actual  famine  which  drives  so  many  to 
crime.  No  other  class  who  profess  to  labor 
do  so  little  or  get  so  much  as  the  priests  of 
Christendom  at  the  present  day.  No  wonder 
that  their  united  aim  is  against  skepticism, 
which  is  so  vigorously  debouncing  their  pre 
tensions.  Let  Christianity  prevail  again  as  it 
did  once  in  Europe,  and  once  more  we  should 
have  gloomy  fanatics,  intolerance,  and  an  in 
quisition  ;  then,  alas !  for  human  progress  or 
liberty.  We  should  again  have  bigoted  Puri 
tans,  and  men  like  Docter  Buster  lording  it  in 
a  Star  Chamber  ;  and  a  tribe  of  bishops  as 
greedy  as  Winchester,  who,  while  advocating 
the  spread  of  the  Gospel,  would  tax  the  poor 
man's  bread  to  increase  benefices  and  to  double 
or  treble  their  present  exorbitant  incomes; 
and  again  we  should  have  reenactments  for  tlw 
enforcement  of  test-oaths  and  religious  penal 
ties." 

"  Then  am  I  to  be  one  of  that  class  you  re 
proach  ?  Shall  I  remain  as  I  am,  and  be  consid 
ered  the  ally  of  such  men  aS  Doctor  Buster 
and  the  bishop  of  Winchester — even  a  co- 
worker  with  James  Baker?"  Mr.  Capel  waa 
still  looking  out  at  the  flowers,  and  a  shadow 
had  already  overspread  his  face. 

"  Yes,  if  you  think  you're  right ;  if  not,  leavo 
the  narrow  track  in  which  you  have  been 
treading,  and  move  out  boldly  upon  the  great 
highway  of  progress.  Be  free!"  Mr.  Man 
nors  spoke  -with  unusual  energy,  and  when 
Mr.  Capel  turned  to  reply,  he  saw  that  emo 
tional  glow,  the  emblem  of  sincerity,  resting 
upon  his  features. 

"I  may  have  been  on  that  highway  for 


106 


EXETER  HALL. 


some  time ;  I  have  ventured  out  stealthily,  like 
one  afraid  to  meet  a  traveler — afraid  to  ask 
whether  I  was  on  the  right  road.  I  know  not 
where  I  am  now.  You  asked  me  to  investi 
gate,  and,  when  I  commenced,  I  left  the  beaten 
track  in  which  I  had  so  long  paced  backward 
and  forward  without  making  an  advance. 
Yes,  I  have  read  and  re-read  the  books  which 
you  mentioned,  and  have  read  others  for  and 
against  the  creed  which  I  was  trained  from 
infancy  to  believe  as  truth ;  now  I  am  like  one 
confused,  like  one  blinded  by  the  dust  which 
he  has  raised  about  him — uncertain  which 
way  to  move.  I  have  gone  back  for  aid  to 
Paley,  and  to  Butler,  and  to  others,  but  to  re 
turn  more  disappointed  than  ever.  I  have 
searched  the  most  learned  expositions  without 
avail ;  and  to-day  I  attended  at  Exeter  Hall, 
only  to  be  mortified  at  the  pretensions  and 
self-sufficiency  of  the  very  class  to  whom  1  am 
supposed  to  belong.  I  am  harboring  terrible 
doubts,  and  am  therefore  in  a  false  position." 

"  And  yet  how  much  better  than  to  be  like 
an  owl  at  twilight,  content  to  hoot  and  flap 
within  the  ivied  ruins  of  a  church  tower. 
You  have  dared  to  doubt ;  that  is  a  step  to 
ward  freedom ;  even  one  pace  outside  the 
charmed  circle  of  theology.  Doubt  is  but  the 
dawning  of  truth.  Be  not  afraid  to  advance  ; 
walk  out  into  the  broad  highway  ;  look  up  at 
the  light,  and  then  go  on ;  for  progress  may 
be  eternal." 

"  One  step  outside  that  circle  would  make 
me  an  apostate,  to  be  laden  with  reproach. 
Apostasy  is  but  infamy  in  the  eyes  of  the 
faithful ;  even  once  made  a  crime,  to  be  pun 
ished  with  death.  That  penalty  can  not  now 
be  exacted,  but  the  ostracism  of  religion  will 
remain.  I  can  not  avoid  my  doubts,  but  I 
dread  the  ordeal  which  may  follow." 

"  Take  courage ;  have  freedom  at  any  price. 
Mental  slavery  is  the  most  degrading.  If  in 
bursting  your  fetters  you  should  receive  a 
wound,  time  will  heal  it ;  and  though  bigotry 
may  point  to  the  scar  as  a  mark  of  degrada 
tion,  it  will  be  to  yourself  and  to  the  pro 
gressive  a  proud  mark  obtained  in  the  cause 
of  true  liberty." 

It  was  late  that  night  before  these  friends 
retired ;  but  had  Mrs.  Mannors  stood  by  and 
heard  all  they  had,  said,  she  would  have  been 
amazed  at  the  want  of  faith  in  him  who  was 
to  have  wrought  such  a  change  in  her  house 
hold,  and  she  might  have  exclaimed,  "  O 
Ephraim  !  what  shall  I  do  unto  thee  ?  0  Judah  I 
what  shall  I  do  unto  thee?  for  your  good 
ness  is  as  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the  early 
dew  it  goeth  away." 

That  same  evening,  after  their  return  from 
Exeter  Hall,  Mrs.  Baker  entertained  a  few 
friends — some  members  of  her  class  besides 
Mr.  Wesley  Jacobs,  the  local  preacher,  Thomas 
Bolster,  and  one  or  two  other  influential  church 
members  on  the  circuit.  Nearly  all  spoke  in 
praise  of  the,  Bible  Society,  and  of  the  plea 
sure  afforded  them  in  witnessing  such  unani 
mity  among  members  of  different  persuasions. 
One  and  all  were,  however,  particularly  de 
lighted  that  Doctor  Buster's  pride  had  been 
humbled  ;  and  Mr.  Baker  wore  a  smile  of 
quiet  satisfaction  at  the  thought  that  the  re 
sult  of  his  counter-plot  had  been  so  success 


ful,  and  that  the  great  Presbyterian  champion 
and  his  allies  had  been  forced  to  submit. 
Indeed,  he  felt  as  satisfied  of  his  own  individual 
prowess  in  the  achievement  of  this  victory  as 
he  did  of  the  supremacy  of  Methodism  over 
every  other  ism  of  the  day. 

"  What  a  pity,  friends,"  said  he,  "  that  such 
a  distinguished  hero  of  Black  Presbyterianism 
should  be  obliged  to  sit  so  meekly  between 
myself  and  Jonah  Hall,  and  never  get  a  chance 
to  say  more  tl  an  Amen  the  whole  day.  I 
fancy  they  won't  send  me  another  invitation 
in  a  hurry  to  attend  at  brother  Caleb  Howe's 
Baptist  wash-house ;  but  we'll  watch  them  for 
the  future,  and  if  they  catch  me  asleep,  why, 
then,  they're  welcome  to  all  they  can  get." 

"  I  declare,  brother,"  said  the  local  preacher, 
"the  doctor  did  keep  unusually  still  to-day; 
he  has  assurance  enough,  he  can  be  bold  if  he 
likes  but  I  thought  there  was  some  other  in 
fluence  at  work  to  keep  him  quiet.  A  popu 
larity  hunter  like  him  is  not  easily  silenced, 
especially  when  he  could  not  fail  to  notice  so 
many  of  his  admirers  present." 

"It  was  rather  strange;  he  fancied,  I  sup 
pose,  that  none  of  us  humble  preachers 
would  have  the  assurance  to  appear  on  the 
platform  alongside  of  his  dignity,  and  that  he 
would  have  it  all  to  himself,  whether  or  no. 
Wasn't  he  mistaken  though 't  However,  I  think 
the  doctor  was  not  himself ;  he  was  as  fidgetty 
as  a  sick  bear,  and  for  some  reason  <-r  other  he 
seemed  to  keep  a  watchful  eye,  either  upon 
that  sedate  impostor,  Martin  Mannors,  who 
was  right  in  front  of  us,  or  upon  his  wife  or 
daughter  ;  while  he,  in  turn,  stared  back  as  de 
fiantly.  There's  something,  I  think,  between 
that  precious  pair ;  I  must  find  it  out  from 
brother  Capel." 

"  I  almost  forgot,  "  said  a  pious  sister,  "  How 
is  sister  Mannors  likely  to  succeed  ?  Do  you 
think  that  brother  Capel  will  add  another  seal 
to  his  ministry  by  the  conversion  of  her  hus 
band  f 

"  The  Lord  alone  can  tell,"  meekly  replied 
Mrs.  Baker,  "the  work  is  in  his  hands.  Our 
poor  sister  is  still  hopeful ;  but  her  husband 
is  yet  puffed  up  with  the  pride  of  his  heart. 
Alas !  his  day  of  grace  may  be  already  passed  ; 
he  may  be  left  to  the  sole  comfort  of  his  weak 
reason.  You  know  what  the  Scriptures  say, 
'  My  spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  man.' 
He  may  yet  bewail,  and  eay, 

'  Ah !  wretch  that  I  am  !  I  can  only  exclaim, 

Like  a  devil  tormented  within, 
My  Saviour  is  gone,  and  has  lelt  me  alone 

To  the  fury  of  Satan  and  sin.'  " 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Mr.  Baker  testily.  "  I 
never  had  any  hope  of  his  submission  to  truth. 
Let  him  go  with  the  rest.  I  place  but  little 
confidence  in  what  our  state  bishops  say  on  be- 
lialf  of  true  religion  ;  they  are  greedy  impos 
tors  ;  but  I  was  glad  to  hear  them  rate  infidel 
ity  at  its  proper  value;  and  that,  too,  in  the 
presence  of  such  an  upholder.  Psha !  brother 
Capel  has  no  more  influence  over  that  man 
than  I  would  have  over  the  Pope  of  Home." 

"  And  yet,"  pleaded  one  of  the  youngest 
sisters,  "you  see  he  had  sufficient  influence  to 
induce  him  to  attend  at  Exeter  Hall." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  sister ;  it  was  all  a  matter 
of  mere  curiosity.  Martin  Mannors  went  there 


EXETER    HALL. 


107 


tc   criticise —  to  hear  what  could  be  said  ;  I 
know  him." 

"I  didn't  think  much  of  the  speeches,  any 
way,"  said  Mr.  Thomas  Bolster,  a  very  strong 
Methodist.  "  We  all  know  what  the  bishops 
are ;  Spurgeon  and  his  little  apple  were  very 
much  alike.  I  think  our  secretary  made  the 
only  speech  worth  hearing." 

"  Wife."  said  Mr.  Baker  suddenly,  after  a 
moment's  thought,  "  was  brother  Capel  here 
lately  '>." 

"  No  ;  not  for  some  days  ;  not,  I  think,  since 
you  returned  from  district  meeting." 

"  Very  strange !  I  do  not  know  how  it  is, 
I  see  him  but  seldom.  I  had  scarcely  time  to 
say, '  How  do  you  do '!'  to  him  after  the  meeting 
to-day  before  he  was  off  again  with  his  friends. 
He  ought  to  have  called  here  upon  his  return 
from  the  circuit.  He  must  be  greatly  devoted 
to  sister  Manners,  or  to  her  husband,  or  some 
one  of  her  family.  I  have  heard  that  he  enter 
tains  a  most  exalted  opinion  of  his  friend  Man- 
nors  ;  it  can  not  be  on  account  of  his  religious 
principles.  Then,'  continued  he  sharply, 
"  what  is  it  for ;  what  is  the  nature  of  the  bond  V 
This  must  be  looked  after."  But  suddenly 
checking  himself,  he  adroitly  turned  the  con 
versation  on  Doctor  Buster  and  the  bishops ; 
he  was  too  cautious  to  scrutinize  the  conduct 
of  the  junior  preacher  before  any  of  the  nock  ; 
he  would  have  a  long  talk  with  his  wife  about 
him  when  the  friends  went  home. 

After  sundry  cups  of  tea  and  other  more 
solid  refreshments  had  been  piously  consum 
ed,  Mr.  Baker,  with  brothers  Bolster  and 
Jacobs,  stealthily  retired  to  light  their  pipes 
in  the  kitchen,  while  the  sisters  were  left 
chatting  agreeably  at  the  tea-table.  In  about 
half  an  hour,  they  all  reassembled  in  the  little 
parlor.  Mr.  Wesley  Jacobs  gave  a  peculiar 
sigh,  and  made  a  favorite  allusion  to  the  pre 
sence  which  would  be  manifested  where  two 
or  three  were  gathered  together  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  There  was  then  a  round  of  pray 
er  for  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  and  the  con 
version  of  the  world ;  and  Mr.  Baker  made  a 
closing  and  pathetic  appeal  for  the  increase  of 
the  Wesleyan  Church,  for  all  who  were  in 
trouble,  for  all  who  were  in  error,  for  the  poor 
benighted  heathen,  and  for  missionaries  far, 
far  away. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ONE  evening,  a  day  or  two  after  the  Bible 
meeting,  Samuel  Styles  entered  the  large  room 
of  the  Red  Lion.  He  found  it  well  filled  with  a 
number  of  intelligent  shop-keepers,  clerks, ar 
tisans,  and  other  persons.  Good  John  Hollis, 
the  landlord,  moved  with  cheerful  look  from 
table  to  table,  stopping  now  and  then  to  give 
a  word  or  two  of  welcome  to  one  or  another, 
or  to  pause,  in  order  to  catch  more  fully  the 
remarks  made  by  some  more  fervent  speaker 
than  usual.  Many  of  those  assembled  were 
quietly  sipping  the  stout  ale  for  which  the  Red 
Lion  was  noted  ;  others  were  looking  over  the 
daily  papers,  or  reading  to  those  near  by 
passages  from  some  popular  or  favorite  author  ; 
wlnle  the  majority  seemed  to  be  earnestly  en 
gaged  in  familiar  discourse,  in  which  much 


thought  and  interest  were  manifested.  Tie 
prevailing  theme  rela'ed  to  the  peculiar  effort? 
resorted  to  for  the  propagation  of  Christianity 
and  its  eleemosynary  system  of  taxation  ;  and 
in  the  buzz  of  conversation  one  could  easily 
detect  that  the  State  Church,  the  aristocracy, 
the  Bible  Society,  and  Exeter  Hall,  bishops, 
parsons,  priests,  and  preachers  came  in  for  n  • 
small  share  of  animadversion.  Samuel  watch 
ed  the  face  of  more  than  one  eager  speaker,  and 
he  soon  became  satisfied  that  though  several  of 
those  around  him  had  a  somewhat  rough  ex 
terior,  they  had  manly  hearts,  and  were  men 
who  had  read  and  thought  for  themselves — 
were  a  type  of  the  free  and  progressive  spirit 
of  the  British  nation  ;  men  who  could  not  be 
intimidated  by  royal  threats  or  lordly  frowns, 
or  made  tamely  submissive  to  the  prejudiced 
and  oppressive  acts  of  any  servile  or  aristo 
cratic  Parliament. 

A  notice,  placed  in  a  conspicuous  part  of  the 
room,  stated  that  the  regular  Veekly  meeting 
of  the  Secularists  of  the  Strand  district  would 
be  held  at  their  large  hall,  in  a  street  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  Red  Lion.  In  about 
half  an  hour,  there  was  a  general  movement  of 
all  for  the  place  ;  and  Samuel,  being  anxious 
to  go,  and  having  previously  formed  a  friendly 
acquaintance  with  several  of  the  visitors,  was 
particularly  invited  to  attend  the  meeting. 
Taking  the  arm  of  the  secretary,  he  followed 
the  crowd,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  conducted 
to  a  seat  in  a  spacious  and  well-lighted  hall, 
capable  of  accommodating  seven  or  eight  hun 
dred  persons,  and  which  was  already  more 
than  two  thirds  filled  when  he  entered.  The 
speaker's  platform  was  elevated  about  two 
feet  above  the  floor,  and  mottoes  or  trite 
phrases,  printed  in  large  letters,  could  be  seen 
in  several  conspicuous  places.  One  over  the 
platform  read  :  "  Reason,  our  most  intellectual 
guide."  Another,  "  Hear  all  sides,"  and  above 
these,  and  almost  touching  the  frescoed  ceil 
ing,  the  word  "  TRUTH,''  in  golden  text-cha 
racters,  flashed  down  upon  the  assembly. 

The  hall  was  soon  crowded,  and  a  number  of 
well-trained  singers  in  front  commenced  the 
following  liberal  song,  which,  from  the  pecu 
liarity  of  the  words  and  harmony  of  the  air, 
and  excellent  manner  of  performance,  seemed 
to  have  had  a  most  animating  effect  upon 
all  present.  Nearly  every  one  appeared  to 
know  the  words  and  their  purport,  and,  as 
they  followed  the  leading  singers  in  swelling 
the  strain  which  now  filled  the  place,  Samuel 
Styles  was  forcibly  reminded  of  his  younger 
days,  and  he  almost  fancied  himself  again  at 
a  Christian  meeting  in  his  native  land : 

SECULARIST'S  SONG. 

We've  been  waiting  through  the  night, 
And  the  dawn  wfll  soon  appear  ; 

And  the  mountain's  misty  height, 

From  the  clouds  shall  burst  out  bright; 

And  the  eagle  in  his  flight 
Reach  a  radiant  atmosphere ; 

And  the  toiler  on  his  way 

Shall  look  up  and  see  the  day. 

O  bleak  time  when  hope  seemed  dead  1 

Ages  lost  in  doubt  and  gloom ; 
A  na  whole  centuries  of  dread 
By  dark  superstition  led, 
Until  reason  almost  fled 

From  a  throne  Into  a  tomb ; 


108 


EXETER    HALL. 


Till  the  mind  in  frenzied  flight 
Darted  deeper  into  night. 

But  the  dawn  on  every  side, 

The  gleam  of  glorious  day, 
Will  be  seen  while  shadows  hide  ; 
Then  the  priest  in  towering  pride, 
And  the  prophet  who  has  lied, 

Shall  forever  lose  their  sway, 
And  the  despot  and  the  slave 
Shall  lie  mouldering  in  one  grave. 

At  the  close  of  the  song,  the  chairman,  a 
venerable  gentleman,  introduced  the  speaker, 
and  when  the  name  of  Martin  Manners  was 
mentioned,  the  demonstrations  of  welcome 
were  so  great  that  it  was  some  time  before  a 
word  could  be  heard.  As  soon  as  an  opportu 
nity  offered,  Mr.  Manners  commenced : 

"  Mr  Chairman  and  my  friends :  As  this  is 
the  period  when  various  religious  societies,  and 
those  interested  in  the  circulation  of  the  Bible, 
or  what  they  call  the  '  word  of  God,'  hold  their 
annual  meetings  in  Exeter  Hall  to  collect 
more  money  for  pious  purposes,  it  will  be  a 
proper  time  for  us  to  ask,  what  the  Bible  is, 
and  on  what  is  its  surprising  claim  to  infalli 
bility  founded.  Such  a  claim,  however,  is  not 
peculiar  to  the  Christian  Bible  ;  the  Buddhists, 
the  Mohammedans,  the  Mormons,  and  others 
insist  on  that  characteristic  for  their  so-called 
inspired  books,  and  are  as  positive  in  asserting 
that  they  have  the  evidence  of  prophecy  and 
miracles  to  as  full  an  extent  in  support  of  their 
warranty  to  a  divine  revelation  as  that  so  au 
thoritatively  demanded  by  Christians.  In  as 
few  words  as  the  nature  of  the  subject  will  per 
mit,  We  shall  make  some  observations  on  the 
Bible  ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  those  who 
feel  interested  in  ascertaining,  '  What  is 
truth?'  will  make  a  fuller  inquiry,  and  be  sat 
isfied  as  to  the  correctness  of  our  assertions : 
no  amount  of  scrutiny  can  injure  truth. 

"  It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  the  Jews,  who  are 
said  by  Christians  to  have  been  the  first  privi 
leged  with  a  message  from  the  deity,  and  who 
are  or  were  once  known  as  the  '  chosen  peo 
ple  of  God,'  only  came  into  notice  after  the 
time  of  Alexander  the  Great ;  and  that  the  his 
torical  monuments  preceding  that  period  make 
not  the  slightest  mention  of  any  Jewish  trans 
action  ;  and  that  the  Jews  were  unknown  to 
the  world  as  a  nation  until  they  were  sub 
jected  by  the  Romans.  This 'has  been  fully 
established  by  the  celebrated  Wyttenbach. 
Professor  Cooper,  of  America,  also  writes,  that 
no  authentic  historian  of  ancient  times,  Jose- 
phus  excepted,  has  ever  mentioned  the  Jews  as 
an  independent  nation  or  state,  or  as  being  in 
possession  of  Palestine,  or  any  part  of  Great 
Syria  before  or  in  the  time  of  Alexander.  As 
a  nation,  they  appear  to  have  been  entirely 
unknown  to  Herodotus  and  all  other  Greek 
historians !  In  view  of  these  facts,  another 
American  writer*  has  said :  '  But  what  con 
fidence  can  be  placed  in  the  ancient  writings 
of  a  people  so  insignificant  and  obscure  as  to 
be,  as  it  were,  totally  unknown  to  other  na 
tions  till  at  least  a  century  after  all  the  facts, 
real  or  pretended,  therein  recorded  were  said 
to  have  been  written  ?  Who  ever  knew  any 
thing  about  King  David,  or  King  Solomon 
and  the  splendid  temple  built  at  Jerusalem  by 

*  Kneeland. 


the  latter,  except  the  Jews  ?'  Writers  whc 
have  made  their  history  a  Btudy  assert  that 
the  Jews,  as  a  people,  were  a  rude,  barbarous, 
cruel,  blood-thirsty  tribe ;  and  Apollonius, 
quoted  by  Josephus,  said  that  the  Jews  were 
the  most  trifling  of  all  the  barbarians,  and 
that  they  were  the  only  people  who  had  never 
found  out  any  thing  useful  for  life.  The 
great  Doctor  Burnet,  in  his  Arcliceoloqiaz  Phi 
losophical,  admits  that  they  were  of  a  gross  and 
sluggish  nature,  of  a  dull  and  heavy  disposi 
tion,  bereft  of  humanity,  a  vile  company  of 
men.  Even  Josephus  concedes  that  his  coun 
trymen  were  so  illiterate  as  never  to  have 
written  any  thing  or  to  have  held  intercourse 
with  their  learned  neighbors.  Indeed,  no 
people  of  antiquity  were  more  ignorant,  cred 
ulous,  intolerant,  and  wretched  than  the  Jews. 
While  the  ancient  Chaldeans,  Arabians,  Egyp 
tians,  Grecians,  and  Romans  produced  their 
men  of  science  and  erudition,  the  Jews  added 
nothing  to  the  glorious  pyramid  of  human 
knowledge  ;  and  yet  we  are  to  believe,  even 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  that  a  being  said  • 
to  be  '  all  wise'  and  '  all  good'  selected  such 
a  race  as  his '  chosen  people,'  the  people  who 
were  solely  and  specially  intrusted  with  his 
divine  word  ?  What  a  mockery  !* 

"  It  is  a  singular  proof  of  the  want  of  correct 
information  among  believers  in  the  Christian 
Bible  that,  with  very  few  exceptions,  they  are 
of  the  opinion,  that  that  book  always  retained 
its  present  form ;  whereas,  in  truth,  there  was 
no  proper  canon  or  collection,  even  of  the 
books  of  the  Old  Testament,  until,  about  two 
hundred  years  before  the  time  given  for  the 
birth  of  Christ.  Previous  to  that  period,  a 
great  number  of  '  holy  books'  were  scattered 
about,  occasionally  altered  or  amended,  just 
as  priests,  or  prophets,  or  rulers  might  deter 
mine.  The  early  history  of  the  Bible  is 
shrouded  in  almost  impenetrable  darkness.  As 
we  now  have  it,  the  Old  Testament  is  com 
posed  of  thirty -nine  books,  exclusive  of  a  num 
ber  of  others  called  ' apocryphal'  but  which 
are  still  received  by  the  Roman-Catholic 
Church  as  canonical ;  and  the  New  Testament 
has  twenty-seven  books.  Therefore,  the  total 
number  of  books  composing  the  orthodox 
or  English  Bible  is  sixty-six  ;  and  these 
are  accepted  by  the  Reformed  Church 
of  the  present  day  as  inspired.  Now, 
although  it  is  strongly  asserted  by  the 
clerical  defenders  of  the  genuineness  of  the 
Bible,  that'  the  Lord  has  miraculously  pre 
served  the  '  sacred  writings,'  yet,  without 
particularizing  any  of  the  forgeries,  interpo 
lations,  or  corruptions  discovered,  we  find  that 
there  were  several  other  inspired  books,  re 
ferred  to  in  the  Bible  as  authoritative,  which 
have  been  entirely  lost,  and  which  are  alluded 
to  by  commentators  as  the  '  lost  books.'  We 
find  passages  in  the  Bible  relating  to  about 
twenty  of  these ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  brevity, 
we  shall  enumerate  texts  which  only  refer  to 
a  few  of  them — such  as  '  The  Book  of  the 
Wars  of  the  Lord,'  '  Tlie  Book  of  Jasher' 
'  The,  Acts  of  Solomon,'  '  The  Book  of  Gad, 
the  Seer'  '  The  Prophecy  of  Ahijah' '  The  Vi 
sions  of  Mdo,'  and '  The  Book  of  Khemaiah,  tht 
Prophet.' 

*  R.  Cooper,  of  England. 


EXETER    HALL. 


109 


"  I  will  read  extracts  from  the  Bible  as 
proof: 

"  'Wherefore,  it  is  eaid  in  the  book  of  the  wars  of  the 
Lord  what  he  did  in  the  Red  Sea  and  in  the  brooks  of 
Aruon  ?'  Numbers  21 :  14. 

'•  '  Is  not.  Uric  written  in  the  book  of  Jashcr  r  Josh. 
10 :  13.  '  Behold,  it  is  written  ill  the  book  of  Jasher ! ' 
2  Samuel  1 :  18. 

"  '  And  the  rest  of  the  acts  of  Solomon,  are  they  not 
written  in  the  book  of  the  aets  of  Solomon?'  1 
Kings  11:41. 

"  •  Now  the  acts  of  David  the  King,  first  and  last,  be 
hold,  they  are  written  in  the  book  of  Samuel  the  seer, 
and  in  the  book  of  Nutli;;n  the  prophet,  and  in  the 
book  of  Gad  the  seer.'  1  Chrou.  29:  29. 

"  You  will  perceive  that  this  verse  alone  re 
fers  to  more  than  one  of  the  lost  books. 

"  '  Now  the  rest  of  the  acts  of  Solomon,  first  and  last, 
are  they  not  written  in  the  book  of  Nathan  the  pro 
phet,  and  in  the  prophecy  of  Ahijah  the  Shilonite,  and 
in  the  visions  of  Iddo  the  seer,  against  Jeroboam,  the 
BOH  of  Nebal  f "  2d.  Chrou  9  :  29. 

"  This  verse  also  mentions  three  of  the  lost 
books : 

" '  Now  the  acts  of  Fehoboam,  first  and  last,  are  they 
not  written  in  the  book  of  Shemaiah  the  prophet,  and 
3f  Iddo  the  seer  concerning  genealogies?"  2  Chrou. 
12  :  15. 

"  Here  two  others  of  the  lost  books  are 
spoken  of;  and  I  think  we  have  sufficient  evi 
dence  that  the  Bible  is  deficient  in  one  par 
ticular  respect :  it  does  not  contain  all  of  the 
so-called  '  inspired  word.'* 

"You  will  remember  that  we  stated  that 
there  was  no  proper  form  or  collection  ol  the 
books  of  the  Old  Testament  until  about  200 
years  before  Christ ;  we  will  now  state  that 
there  was  no  regular  satisfactory  collection  of 
the  books  composing  the  New  Testament  until 
the  middle  of  the  bixth  century,  over  500  years 
after  the  death  of  the  reputed  founder  of 
Christianity  !  Up  to  the  period  of  the  council 
of  Nice,  A.D.  327,  a  great  many  Acts,  Gospels, 
Epistles,  and  Revelations  were  circulated,  and 
received  among  the  faithful  as  of  equal  author 
ity.! 

"  There  were,  of  course,  conflicting  opinions 
as  to  their  credibility,  and  serious  contentions 
arose  in  con-equence;  the  book  which  one 
priest  rejected,  another  would  accept ;  to 
settle  the  dispute  in  some  way,  a  selection  of 

*  Du  Pin,  Professor  of  Philosophy  at  Paris,  and  au- 
thoi  of  a  Complete  History  qf  the  Canon  and  Writers  of 
the  Hooks  of  the  Old  and  Xew  Testaments,  says : 

"  St.  Eiichurius  says,  •  it  is  evident  why  we  have  not 
the  remaining  books  which  the  Holy  Scriptures  ap 
prove  of,  because  Judea,  having  been  ravaged  by  the 
Chaldeans,  and  the  ancient  bibliotheque  being  burnt, 
thure  remains  only  a  small  number  of  the  books  which 
at  present  make  up  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  which 
\vure  collected  and  reestablished  by  the  care  of  Ezra.' 

"  Simon,  in  his  Critical  History  of  the  VenAon  of  the 
New  Testament,  quotes  St.  Chrysostoni  thus: 

"The  Jews,  having  been  at  some  time  careless  and 
at  others  profane,  suffered  some  of  the  sacred  books 
to  be  lost  through  their  carelessness,  and  have  burnt 
and  destroyed  others." 

t  Among  the  apocryphal  books  of  the  New  Testa 
ment  were  the  G'oxptla  of  St.  Peter,  St.  Thomas,  St. 
Mathias,  St.  Bartholomew,  St.  Philip.  Judas  Iscanot, 
Thaddeus,  and  Barnabas.  There  were  the  Acts  of  St. 
Peter,  St.  Paul,  St.  Andrew.  St.  John,  St.  Philip,  and 
St.  Thomas,  and  the  Revelations  of  St.  Paul,  St.  Tho 
mas,  St.  Stephen,  and  the  Great  Apostle.  These  and 
many  others  were  at  one  time  considered  as  of  "  divine 
authority,"  but  now  rejected— though  not  yet  even  by 
all— as  spurious. 


the  true  from  the  false  was  made  by  the  as 
sembled  bishops  at  Nice  ;  and  Papias,  the 
Christian  father,  informs  us  as  to  the  manner 
of  that  selection.  We  shall  give  his  own 
words  :  '  This  was  done/  said  he,  '  by  plac 
ing  all  the  books  under  a  communion-table, 
and,  upon  the  prayers  of  the  council,  the  in 
spired  books  jumped  upon  the  table,  while  the 
false  ones  remained  under !'  After  a  time, 
however,  many  mocked  at  this  manner  of  se 
lection,  and  priestly  wrangling  continued  aa 
fierce  as  ever. 

"  About  the  year  363  A.D.,  another  council, 
called  the  council  of  Laodicea,  was  held,  to 
make  a  more  perfect  selection  of  the  holy 
books.  This  time,  the  manner  of  doing  so 
was  by  v-te  ;  and  it  is  said  a  list  of  the  booka 
of  the  New  Testament,  nearly  as  we  now 
have  them,  was  then  chosen,  but  the  book  of 
Revelations  was  excluded.  And  St.  Chrysos 
tom,  who  died  A.D.  407,  informs  ua  that  in 
his  time  the  book  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
was  little  known.  After  this,  two  other  coun 
cils  were  held,  one  in  the 'year  406,  and  the 
other  about  the  year  680.  The  council  of  406 
rejected  some  books  deemed  canonical  by  the 
council  of  363  ;  but  the  council  of  6HO  restored 
them.  Thus,  until  a  late  period,  did  contend 
ing  priests  leave  the  settlement  of  the  '  divine 
word'  in  doubt  and  confusion.  A  writer 
says  :  '  Thus  were  the  "  sacred  writings,"  the 
"  word  of  God,"  '  tossed  like  a  battledoor  from 
sect  to  sect,  and  altered  as  the  spirit  of  faction 
might  dictate.' 

"  As  an  evidence  that  '  ordained  heads'  at 
these  councils  did  not  always  conduct  them 
selves  in  a  proper  spirit,  we  shall  quote  the 
words  of  the  great  Christian  writer,  Tindal,  on 
the  subject :  '  Indeed,'  says  he,  '  the  confu 
sion  and  disorder  were  so  great  amongst  them, 
especially  in  their  synods,  that  it  sometimes 
came  to  blows ;  as,  for  instance,  Dioscorus, 
bishop  of  Alexandria,  cuffed  and  kicked  Flavi- 
anus,  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  with  that 
i'ury  that  within  three  days  after  he  died!' 
And,  speaking  of  their  doctrinal  consistency, 
he  says,  '  For  though  they  were  most  obsti 
nate  as  to  power,  they  were  most  flexible  as  to 
faith;  and  in  their  council,  complimented  the 
Emperor  with  whatsoever  creeds  they  had  a 
mind  to,  and  never  scrupled  to  recant  what 
they  had  before  enacted,  or  reenact  what  they 
had  before  recanted.' 

"  If  these  men  were  inspired  to  select  the 
true  from  the  false  out  of  such  a  number  of 
books— and  it  would  require  '  inspiration'  for 
the  purpose — the  godly  priests  proved  rather 
flexible. 

"  That  no  doubt  may  exist  as  to  the  period 
when  the  New  Testament  was  compi'.ed,  we 
shall  give  the  statement  of  another  distin 
guished  Christian  ;  the  learned  Dr.  Lardner 
says :  '  That  even  so  late  as  the  middle  of  the 
fiixtJi  century,  the  canon  of  the  New  Testo- 
rtient  had  not  been  settled  by  any  authority 
tbat  was  decisive  and  universally  acknow 
ledged,  but  Christian  people  were  at  liberty 
to  judge  for  themselves  concerning  the  genu 
ineness  of  writings  proposed  to  them  as  apos 
tolical,  and  to  determine  according  to  evi 
deuce.'  Vol.  'A,  pp.  54-61. 

"  The  Rev.T.  H.  Home,  in  his  second  editior 


110 


EXETER    HALL. 


of  his  Introduction  to  the  Scriptures*  says : 
"  The  accounts  left  us  by  ecclesiastical  writers 
of  antiquity,  concerning  the  time  when  the 
Gospels  were  written  or  published,  are  so 
vague,  confused,  and  discordant  that  they 
lead  to  no  certain  or  solid  determination. 
The  eldest  of  the  ancient  fathers  collected 
the  KEPORTS  of  their  own  times,  and  set  them 
down  as  certain  truths,  and  those  who  fol 
lowed  adopted  their  accounts  with  implicit 
reverence.  Thus  tradition,  true  or  false,  passed 
oc  from  one  writer  to  another  without  exam 
ination,  until,  at  last,  it  became  too  late  to 
examine  them  to  any  purpose." 

"  It  must  not  be  imagined,  however,  that  the 
final  selection  of  the  books  of  the  New  Tes 
tament  gave  general  satisfaction  ;  evidence  is 
to  the  contrary.  Many  learned  Christian  men 
of  recent  times  have  expressed  themselves 
strongly  in  favor  of  eeveral  of  the  discarded 
books,  even  going  so  far  as  to  consider  them 
as  genuine  as  any  of  the  canonized  version ; 
and  to  silence  every  cavil  on  this  subject,  we 
shall  confine  ourselves  to  Christian  author 
ity. 

"  The  learned  Dr.  Winston,  on  page  28  of 
his  Exact  Time,  declares  that  tvcenty-s-'ven 
of  the  discarded  books  are  genuine ;  he  says, 
'  Can  any  one  be  so  weak  as  to  imagine  Mark, 
and  Luke,  and  James,  and  Jude,  who  were 
none  of  them  more  than  companions  of  the 
apostles,  to  be  our  sacred  and  unerring  guides, 
while  Barnabas,  Thaddeus,  Clement,  Timo 
thy,  Hernias,  Ignatius,  and  Polycarp,  who 
were  equally  companions  of  the  same  apos 
tles,  to  be  oi  no  authority  at  all  ?' 

"  In  his  Rationale  of  Religious  Inquiry, 
the  Rev.  J.  Martineau  says,  '  If  we  could  re 
cover  the  gospels  of  the  Hebrews  and  that 
of  the  Egyptians,  it  would  be  difficult  to  give 
a  reason  why  THEY  should  not  form  a  part  of 
the  New  Testament ;  and  an  epistle  actually 
exists,  by  Clement,  the  fellow-laborer  of  Paul, 
which  has  as  good  a  claim  to  stand  there  as 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  or  the  Gospel  of 
Luke.  If  none  but  the  works  of  the  twelve 
apostles  were  admitted,  the  rule  would  be 
clear  and  simple ;  but  what  are  Mark  and 
Luke,  who  are  received,  more  than  Clement 
and  Barnabas,  who  are  excluded  V 

"  Bishop  Marsh  observes  that,  '  It  is  an  un 
doubted  fact  that  those  Christians  by  whom 
the  now  rejected  gospels  were  received,  and 
who  are  now  called  heretics,  were  in  the  right 
in  many  points  of  criticism  where  the  fathers 
accused  them  of  willful  corruption.' 

"  Archbishop  Wake,  who  actually  translated 
St.  Barnabas,  St.  Clement,  St.  Ignatius,  St. 
Polycarp,  and  St.  Hernias,  fatliers  of  the  first 
century,  recommends  them  to  the  world  as 
'inspired*  and  as  'containing  an  authorita 
tive  declaration  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  to  us.'f 

"  And  William  Penn,  the  celebrated  Quaker, 
in  an  argument  against  the  positive  accept 
ance  of  the  Bible  as  the  rule  of  faith  and  prac 
tice,  says,  '  I  demand  of  our  adversaries,  if 
they  are  well  assured  of  those  men  who 
first  collected,  embodied,  and  declared  them 
(the  Scriptures)  authentic,  by  a  public  canon 

*Vol  iv.  p.  860. 

*  See  Wake'g  Apostolic  Fathers. 


which  we  read  was  in  the  Council  of  Laodicea, 
held  360  years  after  Christ — I  say,  how  dc 
they  know  that  these  men  rightly  discerned 
true  from  spurious?  Now,  sure  it  is  that  some 
of  the  Scriptures,  taken  in  by  one  council  were 
rejected  by  another  for  apocryphal,  and  that 
which  was  left  out  by  the  former  for  apocry 
phal  was  taken  in  by  the  latter  for  canonical. 
Now,  visible  it  is,  that  they  contradict  each 
other,  and  as  true  that  they  have  erred  re 
specting  the  present  belief.'* 

"  We  could  multiply  such  admissions,  but 
every  candid  hearer  will  agree  that  we  have 
produced  sufficient  to  establish  the  fact  that 
the  orthodox  Bible  was  not  completed,  or  re 
duced  to  its  present  form  until  between  five 
and  six  hundred  years  alter  Christ.  As  it  is,we 
have  now  two  distinct  Christian  Bibles,  the  old 
est  or  Catholic  Scriptures,  which  include  the 
Old  Testament  Apocrypha,  and  the  Protestant, 
or  King  James'  version,  which  excludes  them ; 
some,  indeed,  say  that  the  Bible  of  the  Greek 
Church  is  still  different.  Now,  a  large  major 
ity  of  Christians  are  Roman  Catholic,  and  they, 
as  a  church,  denounce  the  Protestant  Bible. 
In  1810,  the  Pope  declared  it  '  pregnant  with 
errors  ;'  and  the  Protestants,  in  Return,  though 
not  wholly  rejecting  the  CathoMc  book,  say  it 
is  very  imperfect. 

"  The  honest  investigator  will  furthermore  be 
astonished  to  learn  that  the  Jews  themselves, 
even  their  priests  and  kings,  were  ignorant  of 
any  '  divine  law,'  until  a  priest  named  Hil- 
kiah  said  that  he  '  found  the  book  of  the  law 
in  the  house  of  the  Lord.'  This  wonderful 
discovery  is  said  to  have  taken  place  only  628 
years  before  Christ,  centuries  after  the  death 
of  Moses,  its  supposed  writer  1  The  34th  chap 
ter  of  2d  Chronicles  relates  the  matter,  and 
tells  of  the  surprise  and  dread  caused  by  the 
finding. 

"  The  inquirer  will  be  still  more  astonished 
to  hear  that  that  same '  divine  book  of  the  law' 
was,  a  few  years  after  its  discovery  by  Hilkiah, 
completely  lost  (some  say  burnt)  during  the 
Babylonish  captivity,  and  never  afterward 
recovered;  and  that  the  Old  Testament  books 
which  we  now  have  were  re-written  by  Ezra, 
or  Esdras.  Hittel  says,  '  The  ancient  Jewa 
nad  a  tradition  that  the  Mosaic  law  had  been 
burned  at  the  time  of  the  captivity,  and  that  it 
had  been  republished  by  Ezra;  and  the  tradi 
tion  was  received  as  trustworthy  by  Irenaeua, 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  Clirysostom,  and  The- 
odoret.'  In  the  Hebrew  Apocrypha,  Esdraa 
Bays : 

" '  Thy  law  is  burned :  therefore  no  man  knoweth  the 
things  which  thou  hast  done,  or  the  works  that  are  to 
begin.  But  if  I  huve  found  grace  before  thee.  send 
down  the  Holy  Spirit  into  me,  and  I  shall  write  all  that 
hath  been  done  in  the  world  since  the  beginning, 
which  were  written  in  thy  law,  that  men  may  liud  thy 
path.'  2  Esdras  14  :  21. 

•• '  And  it  came  to  pass,  that  when  forty  days  were  ful 
filled,  that  the  highest  spake,  saying,  the  first  that 
thou  hast  written  publish  openly,  that  the  foolish  and 
unworthy  may  read  it ;  but  keep  the  seventy  last,  that 
thou  mayest  deliver  them  only  to  such  as  he  wise 
among  the  people.1  2  Esdras  14  :  45. 

"  Alluding  to  this,  the  Christian  father  Ire- 

naeuB  Bays,  'that,  they  (the  books  of  the  Old 

Testament)   were  fabricated    seventy    years 

after  the   Babylonish  captivity   by   Esdras.' 

*  Penn,  vol.  1.  pp.  303-1 


EXETER    HALL. 


Ill 


And  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  without  venturing  so 
far,  says,  '  All  antiquity  is  nearly  unanimous 
in  giving  Ezra  the  honor  of  collecting  the 
different  writings  of  Moses  and  the  prophets, 
and  reducing  them  into  the  form  in  which 
they  are  now  found  in  the  Holy  Bible.' 

""Bagster  admits  that  Ezra,  'perhaps  as 
sisted  by  Nehemiah  and  the  great  synagogue, 
corrected  the  errors  which  had  crept  into  the  sa 
cred  writings  through  the  negligence  or  mis 
take  of  transcribers,'  and  that  '  he  occasion 
ally  added,  under  the  superintendence  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  whatever  appeared  necessary  for 
the  purpose  of  illustrating,  completing,  or  con 
necting  them.'  This  appears  to  have  been  a 
very  extensive  license.  God.it  is  said,  first  in 
spired  men  to  write  his  law,  and  had  after 
ward  to  inspire  Ezra  to  correct  the  errors  of 
transcribers,  and  yet  a  thousand  admitted  er 
rors  still  exist !  Ezra  '  added  '  to  the  Scrip 
tures,  in  order  to  'illustrate'  what  God  actu 
ally  meant !  Could  more  have  been  said  as  to 
the  ambiguity  of  human  laws  ?  To  what  de 
plorable  shifts  have  our  semi-inspired  priests 
been  reduced ! 

"  The  Bible,  having  attained  its  present 
form,  does  not,  however,  give  satisfaction. 
While  the  Samaritan  Jews,  and  ancient  Sad- 
ducees  rejected  all  but  the  Pentateuch,  those 
same  books,  and  many  others  now  included  as 
canonical,  had  been  discarded  by  some  of  the 
primitive  fathers,  and  by  priestly  heroes  of 
the  reformation,  as  well  as  by  many  bishops, 
priests,  and  learned  commentators  of  these  lat 
ter  days. 

"  Belsham  in  his  Evidence,  page  117,   de- 
'  clares  that, '  of  the  law  of  Moses,  that  which  is 
genuine  bears  but  a  small  proportion  to  that 
which  is  spurious.' 

"  The  celebrated  Bishop  Usher  says  that  our 
present  Septuagint  is  a  spurious  copy !  '  The 
Septuagint  translation  continually  adds  to, 
takes  from,  and  changes  the  Hebrew  text  at 
pleasure ;  the  original  translation  of  it  was 
lost  long  ago,  and  what  has  ever  since  gone  by 
that  name  is  a  spurious  copy,  alxnmding  in 
omissions,  additions,  and  alterations  of  the  He 
brew  text.' 

"  Origen,  the  first  learned  Christian  of  criti 
cal  ability,  doubted  the  genuineness  of  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the  second  of  James, 
second  of  Peter,  second  and  third  of  John  and 
Jude !  but  considered  the  book  of  Hernias  as 
inspired. 

"Luther,  the  apostle  of  the  reformation, 
doubted  the  truthfulness  of  the  following 
scriptural  books,  namely :  Of  the  Old  Testa 
ment,  Chronicle*,  Job,  Eccleniastcs,  Etther, 
and  haiah  ;  of  the  New,  Hebrews,  James,  Jude, 
and  Revelation.  We  shall  quote  Luther's 
own  words  as  evidence.  He  says :  '  The 
books  of  the  King*  are  more  worthy  of  credit 
than  the  books  ot  the  Chronicles!  Job  spake 
not  therefore  as  it  stands  written  in  his  book, 
but  hath  had  such  cogitations.  It  is  a  sheer 
allegory.  It  is  probable  that  Solomon  made 
and  wrote  this  book.  This  book,  Ecclesiastes, 
ought  to  have  been  more  full ;  there  is  too 
much  broken  matter  in  it ;  it  has  neither  boots, 
nor  spurs,  but  rides  only  in  socks,  as  I  myself 
when  in  the  cloister.  Solomon,  therefore,  hath 
not  written  this  book,  which  had  been  made  in 

' 


the  days  of  the  Maccabees,  by  Sirach.  It  ia 
like  a  Talmud,  compiled  from  many  books, 
perhaps  in  Egypt,  at  the  desire  of  King  Ptole 
my  Euergetes.  So  also  have  the  Proverbs 
of  Solomon  been  collected  by  others.  The 
book  of  Esther,  I  toss  into  the  Elbe.  I  am 
such  an  enemy  to  the  book  of  Esther,  that  I 
wish  it  did  not  exist ;  for  it  Judaizes  too  much, 
and  hath  in  it  a  great  deal  of  heathenish 
naughtiness.  Isaiah  hath  borrowed  his  art  auci 
knowledge  from  the  Psalter.  The  history  of 
Jonah  is  so  monstrous  that  it  is  absolutely  in 
credible.  That  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  is  not 
by  St.  Paul,  nor  by  any  apostle  at  all  is  shown 
by  chapter  2:3.  It  was  written  by  an  ex 
ceedingly  learned  man,  a  disciple  of  the  apos 
tles.  It  should  be  no  stumbling-block  if  there 
should  be  found  in  it  a  mixture  of  wood, 
straw,  hay.  The  Epistle  of  James  I  account 
the  writing  of  no  apostle ;  it  is  an  epistle  of 
straw.  The  Epistle  of  Jude  is  a  copy  of  >St. 
Peter's,  and  altogether  has  stories  which  have 
no  place  in  Scripture. 

"'In  the  revelations  of  St.  John,  much  ia 
wanting  to  let  me  deem  it  scriptural.  I  can 
discover  no  traces  that  it  is  established  by  the 
Spirit.'  *  Such  is  the  opinion  of  the  great  high- 
priest  of  the  reformation  of  books  now  deemed 
inspired. 

"  Of  the  book  of  Daniel,  the  learned  Dr.  Ar 
nold  speaks,  '  I  have  long  thought  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  book  of  Daniel  is  most  cer 
tainly  a  very  late  work  of  the  time  of  the 
Maccabees  ;  and  the  pretended  prophecy  of  the 
kings  of  Greece  and  Persia,  and  of  the  north 
and  south  is  mere  history,  like  the  poetical 
prophecies  in  Virgil  and  elsewhere.  In  fact, 
you  can  distinctly  trace  the  date  when  it  was 
written,  because  the  events  up  to  that  data 
are  given  with  historical  minuteness,  totally 
unlike  the  character  of  real  prophecy,  and  be 
yond  that  date  all  is  imaginary.' 

"  What  a  pity  it  is  that  some  of  our  mad 
priests  do  not  take  the  same  view  ;  our  semi- 
prophetic  lecturers  would  not  have  so  many 
'  rams'  and  '  he-goats'  skipping  through 
their  brains  and  scattering  their  senses.  Ne- 
ander  also  took  the  same  view  of  the  book  of 
Daniel.  Doctors  Aitken  and  Eichhorn  have  re 
pudiated  the  books  of  Jonah  and  Daniel  as 
mere  'legends  and  romances.'  Doctor  Whis- 
ton  denounced  the  Canticles  as 'forgeries;'  and 
many  other  of  our  learned  priests,  who,  while 
accepting  certain  books  as  canonical,  yet  ad 
mit  that  they  contain  spurious  passages,  inter 
polations,  false  translations,  sufficient  to  mis 
lead  and  bewilder  the  multitude. 

"  I  would  ask.  how,  then,  is  it  possible  for  an 
'  unlearned'  man,  a  '  simple,  humble  believ 
er,'  to  'stand  fast  and  continue  in  the  faith,' 
surrounded  by  such  a  babel  of  opinions  ? 
The  only  way  he  can  do  so  is  by  resolutely 
shutting  his  eyes  and  stopping  his  ears,  de 
termined  neither  to  hear  nor  see  any  thing 
likely  to  produce  a  single  doubt ;  he  must  be 
guided  entirely  by  the  advice  of  interested 
priests,  who  'affectionately'  caution  against 
'  unbelief/  and  then  threaten  '  that  he  that 


*  Dionysins,  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  Erasmus,  Calvin, 
andZuinglius  ulsocU.ubted  the  gouuineness  of  Revel* 
lion. 


112 


EXETER    HALL. 


believeth  not  shall  be  damned ;'  and  this 
threat  is,  with  thousands,  an  extinguisher  to 
investigation  ;  it  is  the  most  convincing  or 
thodox  argument. 

"  Now,  with  respect  to  the  books  included  in 
the  present  canon  of  the  Old  Testament, 
there  is  no  satisfactory  evidence  to  prove 
when,  or  where,  or  by  whom  they  were  writ 
ten,  or  in  what  language.  On  the  contrary, 
there  is  abundant  proof  to  show,  that  such  of 
these  books  as  bear  the  name  of  certain  au 
thors  were  never  written  by  such  persons. 
The  book  of  Genesis,  and  other  books  of  the 
Pentateuch,  are  plainly  the  production  of  two 
or  more  persons.  Genesis  contains  two  con 
flicting  accounts  of  the  creation.  The  story 
of  the  deluge  is  twice  told ;  the  relation  as  to 
how  Abraham  passi  d  off  Sarah  a*  his  sister 
is  repeated  with  discrepancies;  and  the  cir 
cumstance  which  also  obliged  Isaac  to  call 
his  wife  Rebecca  his  sister,  in  order  to  escape 
from  the  lust  of  Abimelech — evidently  the 
same  monarch  who,  by  one  of  the  accounts, 
had  been  years  previously  smitten  with  the 
beauty  of  Isaac's  mother — are  all  related  in 
the  same  book,  manifestly  confused  accounts 
of  the  same  legend. 

"  There  are  also  two  conflicting  reasons 
given  for  the  institution  of  the  Sabbath,  and 
two  distinct  codes  of  the  ten  commandments. 

"  Several  matters  recorded  in  the  Pentateuch 
are  nearly  exact  fac-similes  of  ihe  mysteries 
of  the  Babylonians.  The  creation  in  six 
days  is  a  perfect  copy  of  the  Gahans  of  Zoro 
aster ;  the  particulars  of  each  day's  Avork  are 
also  the  same.  The  story  of  the  serpent  and 
the  fall  was  long  famous  among  that  people. 
The  mythological  deluge  of  Ogyges  is  just 
the  same  as  Noah's  flood,  and  the  story  of 
Adam  and  Eve  in  paradise  is  a  mere  copy  of 
Zoroaster's  first  pair.  The  Talmud  expressly 
declares  that  the  Jews  borrowed- the  names 
of  the  angels,  and  even  their  months  from 
the  Babylonians.* 

"  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  believe  that  the 
Bible  is  the  oldest  book  ;  at  the  very  time  we 
are  told  that  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  world, 
except  Noah  and  his  family,  were  drowned, 
the  Hindoos  existed  as  a  great  nation,  and 
Egypt  and  China  had  their  learned  men 
— their  philosophers,  their  architects,  their 
astronomers,  and  historians ;  and  their  vast 
cities,  burdened  with  an  overflowing  popula 
tion. 

"  So  palpable,  indeed,  £re  these  facts,  that 
raiment  Christian  writers  have  declare;!  their 
disbelief  in  the  authorship  of  such  a  person 
us  Moses.  St.  Jerome  confesses  that  he 
'  dares  not'  affirm  that  Moses  wrote  the 
Pentateuch,  but,  like  the  Talmudists,  he  as 
cribes  it  to  Ezra,  (Esdras.)  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
affirms,  that  it  was  neither  Moses  nor  Ezra 
who  wrote  the  five  books,  but  Samuel.  Lord 
Harrington  asserts  the  same.  The  Rev  W. 
Fox,  in  his  sermons,  published  in  1819,  re 
marks,  'That  the  early  part  of  Genesis  is  a 
compilation  of  ancient  documents,  and  not  the 
writing  of  M<i8en  has  been  the  opinion  of  some 
of  the  most  able  divines  and  sincere  be 
lievers.'  The  distinguished  Christian  pro- 

*  See  "  Age  of  Reason,"  p.  13. 


fessor  Du  Pin  is  positive  that  '  we  are  not  ccr 
tainly  assured  of  the  true  authors  of  most  of 
the  books  of  the  Old  Testament.'  These  are 
only  a  few  of  the  authorities  who  openly  dis 
believe  in  the  authorship  of  Moses.  Almost 
every  book  of  the  Bible  has  been  in  turn 
doubted  and  defended ;  and  while  Jewish 
rites  can  be  traced  to  a  more  ancient  hea 
thenism,  nearly  every  thing  of  Christianity 
is  of  Egyptian  origin. 

"  It  would,"  continued  Mr.  Mannors,  "  be  a 
difficult  task  to  give,  within  the  limits  of  a 
single  lecture,  any  lengthened  review  of  the 
other  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  We  shall 
merely  say,  that  several  of  them  are  mostly 
occupied  with  trifling  details  of  silly  observ 
ances,  hy  no  means  edifying.  Kings  and 
Chronicles  contradict  each  other  in  almost 
every  chapter ;  while  other  books  are  but 
such  accounts  of  atrocity,  debauchery,  and 
gross  indecency  as  to  make  humanity  shud 
der  and  shock  all  delicacy  and  refinement. 
Any  other  book  but  that  called  the  '  Holy 
Bible,'  containing  such  abominable  records, 
would  be  stamped  forever  as  infamous.  Yet, 
wonder  of  wonders!  though  a  great  number 
of  these  '  inspired  texts,'  are  too  impure  to 
be  read  or  quoted  from  pulpit  or  desk,  or 
even  breathed  to  'ears  polite.'  Christian 
priests  will  still  uphold  the  imposition,  and 
positively  tell  us  that  every  word  was  writ 
ten  for  our  improvement !  Who  can  trvdr 
believe  this  ? 

"But  then  we  are  vauntingly  pointed  to  scrip- 
tural  miracles  and  prophecies  as  a  glorious 
refutation  of  the  slanders  of  tmbelief.  In 
boasting  of  such  evidences,  Christianity  but 
follows  the  practice  of  far  more  ancient  super 
stitions.  Religions  imposture  in  every  age 
fortified  itself  with  magic  and  miracles  to  over 
come  doubt  and  opposition  ;  and  with  prophe 
cies  which  were  as  clearly  and  often  more  in 
telligibly  fulfilled  than  any  that  the  Bible  can 
yet  claim.  Prophets  have  been  a  prolific  race, 
the  raving  and  incoherent  dreamers  and  en 
thusiasts  of  ancient  and  modern  times.  Does 
not  even  the  Bible  admit  that  some  of  its 
prophetG  were  false  and  lying,  and  drunken 
men,  who  'divined  for  money,'  and  were  jeal 
ous,  of  each  other's  success ;  who  became  as 
often  '  inspired'  through  the  influence  of  wine, 
or  music,  or  dancing  as  they  did  by  the  hissine 
idea  which  governed  their  feeble  minds '.' 
Micnh,  3d  chapter,  speaks  of  prophets  who 
'  divined  for  money,'  but  modestly  speaks  of 
himself  as  being  '  full  of  power.'  Jeremiah 
in  second  chapter,  14th  of  Lamentations,  says, 
'  Thy  prophets  have  seen  vain  and  foolish 
things.'  Isaiah,  in  chapters 9th  and  28th,  that 
they  'teach  lies'  and  are  'drunken.'  These 
passages  do  not  particularly  refer  to  foreign  or 
heathen  wanderers,  but  to  the  recognized  '  for 
tune-tellers' of  the  time.  (Jeremiah  20  :  7.^  AK 
a  prophet,  he  Complains,  '  0  Lord  !  thou  hast 
deceived  me,  and  I  was  deceived  :'  and  in  the 
14th  chapter  of  E/ekiel,  7th  verse,  God  himself 
is  made  to  say,  And  if  the  prophet  be  deceived 
when  he  hath  spoken  a  thing, '  /  the  Lard  hav< 
deceived  that  prophet.'  Comment  on  such  pro 
phets  and  on  such  a  deity  would  occupy  to<' 
much  of  our  time  at  present.  While  we  hayu 
but  just  shown  that  many  of  the  leading  Chris* 


EXETER    HALL. 


113 


tian  priests  had  no  confidence  in  the  asserted 
prophecies  of  Isaiah,  Daniel,  and  Jonah,  we 
find  that  others  of  them,  such  as  Dr.  Keith  and 
Bishop  Newton,  have  waded  through  a  vast 
mass  of  useless  learning,  to  try  and  establish 
the  fulfillment  of  certain  prophecies  ;  yet  it  is 
now  fairly  proved  that  the  greater  number  of 
such  predictions  have  failed.  It  has  also  been 
placed  beyond  doubt  that  many  of  the  so- 
called  prophecies  were  written  after  the  event 
happened  to  which  they  related  ;  while  others 
have  been  singularly  falsified. 

'•  But  what  of  the  famous  prophecy  regard 
ing  the  coming  of  the  Messiah  ?  We  reply  that 
no  part  of  Scripture  has  been  more  unfairly 
twisted  to  accommodate  the  desire  of  priests 
than  that  which  it  is  said  relates  to  such  an 
event.  We  can  now  only  notice  the  principal 
prediction  in  Isaiah,  which  some  tell  us  is 
beyond  all  cavil : 

"  The  kings  of  Israel  and  Syria,having  united 
in  a  war  against  the  king  of  Judah,  the  latter 
was  much  alarmed,  but  the  prophet  Isaiah  as 
sured  him  that  they  should  not  succeed  against 
him.  The  Lord  to'ld  the  king  to  '  ask  a  sign,' 
but  the  king  declined,  stating  that  he  w.iuld 
not  '  tempt  the  Lord.'  Isaiaii  then  said : 

"'Therefore  the  Lord  himself  shall  give  you  a 
sign:  Behold,  a  virgin  shall  conceive  and  bear  a  son, 
and  shall  call  his  name  Immanue! ;  for  before  the  child 
shall  know  how  to  refuse  the  evil  and  choose  the  good, 
the  laud  that  thou  abhorrest  shall  be  forsaken  of  both 
her  kings.'  Isaiah  7 :  14-16. 

"  This,  then,  was  the  sign  promised  to  assure 
the  king  of  Judah  of  kis  xiltimate  success 
over  the  two  who  had  conspired  against  him  ; 
and,  in  order  to  secure  the  fulfillment  of  this 
'  prophecy.'  we  are  told  in  the  very  nex  t  chap 
ter,  2d  verse,  that  Isaiah  himself  got  a  pro 
phetess  with  child,  and  that  she  afterward 
bare  a  son.  This  is  an  abridgment  of  the  ab 
surd  story,  and  had  no  more  reference  to  Jesus, 
who  is  said  to  have  appeared  several  hundred 
years  afterward,  than  it  had  to  Csesar  or 
Peter  the  Great. 

"  The  assurance  of  success  which  Isaiah 
gave  to  the  king  of  Judah  proved,  however, 
that  Isaiah  himself  was  one  of  the  '  lying'  pro 
phets  ;  for,  in  the  2d  book  of  Chronicles,  chap 
ter  28,  it  is  recorded  that,  instead  of  the  two 
hostile  kings  being  overwhelmed,  Ahaz  was 
completely  defeated  ;  the  usual  godly  slaugh 
ter  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  of 
his  people  having  taken  place  in  one  day, 
followed  by  the  captivity  of  two  hundred 
thousaiid  women,  with  their  sons  and  daugh 
ters:  so  much  for  the  infallibility  of  Isaiah. 

"  Several  enlightened  Christians  are  inclined 
to  abandon  this  once  favorite  prophecy  as  un 
tenable.  Michael  is.  the  learned  Christian  pro 
fessor,  p.  212,  says,  he  '  can  not  be  persuaded 
that  the  famous  prophecy  in  Isaiah,  chapter 
7,  verse  14,  has  the  least  reference  to  the  Mes 
siah.'  The  church  has  been  sorely  troubled 
to  get  rid  of  the  difficulties  arising  from  the 
alleged  prophecies  relating  to  Christ.  Wins 
ton,  the  successor  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  as 
mathematical  professor,  published  a  book  to 
prove  that  in  early  times  the  Jews  had  al 
tered  the  passages  of  the  Old  Testament  re 
ferred  to  as  prophetic  of  Christ.  If  such  were 
peally  the  case,  the  Old  Testament  could  not 


I  be  relied  on  in  any  particular.  Winston's 
theory  was,  however,  much  approved  of,  until 
an  actual  comparison  with  the  ancient  Jewish 
Scriptures  proved  them  to  be  alike  in  their  pre 
dictions.  Dr.  Arnold  tried  to  avoid  the  pro 
phetic  difficulty  by  saying, '  We  find  through 
out  the  New  Testament  references  made  to 
various  passages  in- the  Old  Testament  which 
are  alleged  as  prophetic  of  Christ,  or  of  some 
particulars  of  the  ChristiBn  dispensation. 
Now,  if  we  turn  to  the  context  of  these  passa 
ges,  and  so  endeavor  to  discover  their  mean 
ing  according  to  the  only  sound  principles  of 
interpretation,  it  will  often  appear  that  they 
do  not  relate  to  the  Messiah  or  to  Chris 
tian  times,  but  are  either  expressions  of  reli 
gious  affectlons  generally  ;  or  else  refer  to  somo 
particular  circumstances  in  the  life  and  condi 
tion  of  the  writer  or  of  the  Jewish  nation, 
and  do  not  at  all  show  that  any  thing  more 
remote,  or  any  events  of  a  more  universal  and 
spiritual  character,  were  designed  to  be  pro 
phesied.  Every  prophecy,  as  uttered  by 
man,  (that  is,  by  an  intelligent  and  not  a 
mere  mechanical  instrument, )  and  at  the 
same  time  as  inspired  by  God,  must,  as  far  as 
appears,  have  a  double  sense— one,  the  sense 
entertained  by  the  human  mind  of  the  writer  ; 
the  other,  the  sense  infused  into  it  by  God. 
We  may  even  suppose  the  prophet  to  be  total 
ly  ignorant  of  the  divine  meaning  of  his 
words,  and  to  intend  to  express  .a  meaning  of 
his  own,  quite  unlike  God  s  meaning.'  This 
reasoning  of  the  learned  and  pious  Dr.  Arnold 
in  favor  of  a  '  double  sense'  to  prophecy, 
and  to  assume  that  prophets  did  not  know  the 
meaning  of  their  own  words,  is  very  like  tak 
ing  leave  of  common  sense  altogether.  The 
doctor  further  says,  '  Generally  the  language 
of  prophecy  will  be  found  to  be,  hyperbolical, 
as  far  as  regards  its  historical  subjects,  and 
only  corresponding  with  the  truth  exactly  if 
we  substitute  for  the  historical  subject  the  idea 
of  which  it  is  the  representative.  It  will  be 
found,  I  think,  a  general  rule  in  all  the  pro 
phecies  of  Scripture,  that  they  contain  expres 
sions  which  will  only  be  adequately  fulfilled 
in  their  last  and  spiritual  fulfillment ;  and  that 
as  applied  to  the  lower  fulfillments,  which 
precede  this,  they  are  and  must  be  hyper 
bolical.' 

"  Upon  this,  Greg  remarks,  '  It  is  difficult  to 
grapple  with  a  mode  of  interpretation  such  as 
this;  equally  difficult  to  comprehend  how  an 
earnest  and  practical  understanding  like  Dr. 
Arnold's  could,  for  a  moment,  rest  satisfied 
with  such  a  cloudy  phantom.  Our  homely 
conceptions  can  make  nothing  of  an  oracle 
which  says  one  thing  but  means  something 
very  different  and  more  noble ;  which,  in  de 
nouncing  with  minute  details  destruction 
against  Egypt,  Babylon,  and  Tyre,  merely 
threatens  final  defeat  to  the  powers  of  evil ; 
which,  in  depicting,  in  precisest  terms,  the  ma 
terial  prosperity  reserved  for  the  Israelites, 
only  intended  to  promise  blessings  to  the  vir 
tuous  and  devout  of  every  age  and  clime  ;  and 
which,  in  describing  ancient  historical  per 
sonages,  ditl  so  always  with  an  nrriere  pensee 
toward  Christ.  If  Dr.  Arnold  means  to  say 
that  the  Old  Testament  prophecies  signified 
primarily,  chiefly,  and  most  specifically  the 
ultimate  triumph  of  good  over  evil — of  God 


114 


EXETER    HALL. 


and  virtue  over  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  I 
devil,  (and  this  certainly  appears  to  be  his 
meaning) — we  can  only  reply  that,  in  that 
case,  they  are  poetry  and  not  prediction.  To 
conceive,  therefore,  this  to  be  the  meaning  of 
the  God  who  is  alleged  to  have  inspired  them 
is  to  imagine  that  he  used  incompetent  and  de 
ceptive  instruments  for  his  communications  ; 
and  it  is  certain  that,  had  the  prophecies  been 
perfectly  and  unquestionably  fulfilled  in  their 
obvious  sense,  the  secondary  and  recondite  sig 
nification  would  never  have  been  heard  of.' 

"  The  double  meaning  which  Christian 
priests  have  advocated  for  Bible  prophecies  is 
just  what  they  have  so  often  condemned  in  the 
pagan  oracles — it  was  a  way  of  escape  for  the 
sibyl  or  prophet.  In  endeavoring  to  make 
the  so-called  prophecies  applicable,  some  of 
the  greatest  minds  have  become  puerile  and 
prostrated.  Some  have  boldly  asserted  that 
the  prophecies  are  '  plain  and  explicit ;'  but  Sir 
Isaac  Newton,  who  was  a  believer,  states  that 
'  God  gave  these,  (revelations,)  and  the  prophe 
cies  of  the  Old  Testament  not  to  satisfy  men's 
curiosity  by  enabling  them  to  foreknow 
things,  but  that,  after  they  were  fulfilled,  they 
might  be  interpreted  by  "  the  event."  '  Hittel 
says,  '  Sir  Isaac  thus  admits  that  the  biblical 
prophecies  furnish  no  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
the  Scriptures  or  of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus  ; 
for  a  prophecy  which  does  not  enable  men  to 
foreknow  things,  but  which  is  to  be  inter 
preted  by  "  the  event"  is  a  pitiful  affair,  in  no 
way  superior  to  the  predictions  "of  the  hea 
then  oracles.'  " 

"  In  his  discourse,  page  31,  Bishop  Sherlock 
says,  '  That  many  of  the  latter  prophecies  are 
still  dark  and  obi-cure,  and  so  far  from  evi 
dently  belonging  to  Christ  and  Christ  only 
that  it  requires  much  learning  and  sagacity 
to  show,  even  now,  the  connection  between 
some  prophecies  and  the  events.' 

"  The  Jews,  who  should  best  understand  their 
own  book,  have  ever  denied  the  application 
of  the  prophecy  to  Jesus.  They  charge  the 
Christians,  in  order  to  accomplish  their  pur 
poses,  with  having  '  changed  in  the  original 
nouns,  verbs,  tenses,  and  meanings.'  In  a 
work  called  Israel  Vindicatedt\\ey  say, '  These 
prophecies  have  repeatedly  been  shown  by  our 
rabbins  to  have  a  different  meaning  from  that 
given  them  by  the  Christians,  which  it  is  im 
possible  for  any  one  to  mistake  whose  mind 
is  not  predisposed  to  shut  out  the  light  of 
truth.' 

"  That  the  Jewish  imputation  against  Chris 
tian  piieste,  of  having  '  changed  in  the  origi 
nal  nouns,  verbs,  tenses,  and  meanings,'  was 
not  undeserved  or  unj  ust,  we  shall  show  from 
the  words  of  the  great  commentator,  Doctor 
A  dam  Clarke.  Speaking  of  the  quotations  usu 
ally  made  from  the  Old  Testament,  he  says, 
that  many  of  them '  are  accommodated'  to  the 
New  Testament  story,  '  their  own  historical 
meaning  being  different,  may  be  innocently 
credited  ;  but  let  it  always  be  remembered 
that  these  accommodations  are  made  by  the 
same  spirit  by  which  the  Psalms  were  origi 
nally  given.  Many  passages  of  the  Old  Tes 
tament  seem  to  be  thus  quoted  (as  predictions) 
in  the  New.  And  often  the  words  a  little 
ottered  and  the  meaning  extended,  to  make 
them  suitable  to  existing  circumstances.'  If 


this  is  not  a  palpable  evidence  of  pious  fraud, 
we  wonder  where  a  plainer  one  can  be  found. 
Words  actually  '  altered'  and  their  meaning 
'  extended  '!  The  doctor,  '  innocently  '  how 
ever,  places  the  burden  on  the  '  spirit ;'  that  is 
the  spirit  which  first  directed  the  prophet 
to  say,  while  should  afterward  influence  the 
transcriber  or  translator  to  say  black! 

We  can  not  in  the  present  uiscourse  refer  any 
further  to  the  prophecies ;  another  opport  unity 
may  be  offered  for  that  purpose.  It  has  been  said 
that  prophecy  is  'prose  run  mad.'  and  it  ig 
plain  that  its  study  has  greatly  distracted  the 
reasoning  powers  of  some  devout  thinkers. 
What  erratic  fulfilments  have  learned  priests 
extracted  from  the  prophetic  word!  The 
Pope,  and  Luther,  and  Napoleon  have  each  in 
turn  been  made  to  stand  godfather  to  the  wild 
creations  of  Daniel ;  and  lesser  lights,  such 
as  John  Hawkins,  Esq.,  prove  that  Britain  is 
the  kingdom  which,  according  to  Daniel,  God 
will  set  up !  Captain  Maitland  illustrates 
Daniel  by  Revelation !  J.  H.  Frere  proves 
that  Daniel,  Esdras,  and  St.  John  found  their 
accomplishment  in  Bonaparte !  and  the  ex- 
king  of  Sweden  asserts  that  Bonaparte  is  the 
beast  of  Revelation  !  Dr.  Whiston,  professor 
of  mathematics  at  Cambridge,  of  whom  we 
have  spoken,  believed  that  the  bringing  forth 
of  rabbits  by  one  Mary  Tofts,  according  to 
the  then  popular  delusion,  was  the  accom 
plishment  of  a  prophecy  in  Esdras !  and  among 
many  others  at  _  the  present  day,  we  have  a 
Cumming,  or  a  Bagster,  who,  in  silly  lectures 
or  in  prosy  pamphlets,  opens  the  '  seven  vials,' 
or  wrestle  with  '  the  beast  with  seven  heads,' 
or  with  the  '  red  dragon,'  or  marches  with 
triumphant  pace  to  the  great  battle  of  Arma 
geddon  ;  we  all  know  that  these  tedious  ex 
positions,  so  far,  have  been  about  as  lucid  as 
that  of  a  certain  Irish  legislator,  who,  while 
in  a  supposed  state  of  derangement,  insisted 
that  Armageddon  really  meant  Armagh,  '  be 
cause  in  the  apocalyptic  version  something 
is  incidentally  said  about  fine  linen.'  It  truly 
seems  that  one  is  about  as  near  the  mark  as 
the  other.  We  shall  finish  our  present  remarks 
on  prophecy  by  a  brief  quotation  from  that 
greatly  traduced,  but  noble  and  benevolent 
man,  THOMAS  PAINE. 

"  '  According  to  the  modern  meaning  of  the 
word  prophet,  and  prophesying,  it  signifies 
foretelling  events  to  a  great  distance  of 
time  ;  and  it  became  necessary  to  the  in 
ventors  of  the  Gospel  to  give  it  this  lati 
tude  of  meaning,  in  order  to  apply  or  to 
to  stretch  what  they  call  the  prophecies  of  the 
Old  Testament  to  the  times  of  the  New  ;  but, 
according  to  the  Old  Testament,  the  prophesy 
ing  of  the  seer,  and  afterward  of  the  prophet, 
so  far  as  the  meaning  of  the  word  seer  was 
incorporated  into  that  of  prophet,  had  refer 
ence  only  to  things  of  the  time  then  passing, 
or  very  closely  connected  with  it ;  such  as  the 
event  of  a  battle  they  were  going  to  engage 
in,  or  of  a  journey,  or  of  any  enterprise  they 
were  going  to  undertake,  or  of  any  circum^ 
stance  then  pending,  or  of  any  difficulty  they 
were  then  in  ;  all  of  which  had  immediate  re 
ference  to  themselves,  (as  in  the  case  already 
mentioned  of  Aliaz  and  Isaiah,  with  respect  to 
the  expression,  Behold  a  virgin  shall  conceive, 
and  bear  a  son,)  and  not  to  any  distant  future 


EXETER    HALL. 


115 


time.  It  was  that  kind  of  prophesying  that 
corresponds  to  what  we  call  fortune-telling; 
such  as  casting  nativities,  predicting  riches, 
fortunate  or  unfortunate  marriages,  conjuring 
for  lost  goods,  etc. !  and  it  is  the  fraud  of  the 
Christian  church,  not  that  of  the  Jews;  and 
the  ignorance  and  the  superstition  of  modern, 
not  that  of  ancient  times,  that  elevated  those 
poetical,  musical,  conjuring,  dreaming,  stroll- 
in"-  gentry  into  the  rank  they  have  since 
had.' 

"  Those  who  have  leisure  will  find  priestly 
speculations  on  prophecy  a  very  amusing 
study. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  THE  New  Testament  is  said  to  contain  the 
last  written  revelation  from  God  to  man.  It 
now  includes  but  twenty-seven  separate  tracts, 
called  books.  Formerly,  as  was  stated,  there 
were  a  great  many  more,  over  fifty  different 
gospels  having  been  received  at  one  period  ; 
but  as  it  seems  that  various  degrees  of  inspi 
ration  were  imparted  to  certain  contending 
councils,  who  undertook  to  make  a  selection, 
the  books  considered  necessary  for  man's  sal 
vation  were,  as  we  have  shown,  very  prudent 
ly  reduced  to  the  present  number. 

"  Among  the  principal  books  of  the  New 
Testament  are  the  four  gospels,  said  to  have 
been  written  by  the  persons  whose  names  they 
bear  ;  but  for  this,  there  is  no  evidence  what 
ever,  neither  can  it  be  shown  when,  or  where, 
or  at  what  time  they  were  written ;  there  is 
not  an  original  manuscript  of  any  of  them  in 
existence,  nor  can  it  be  proved  that  any  such 
were  seen  during  the  first  century  ;  *  and 
it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  Christ  himself,  the 
real  hero  of  the  New  Testament,  never  wrote 
a  line  of  it ;  all  we  have  of  his  reputed  acts  or 
sayings  is  mere  hearsay.  These  gospels,  how 
ever,  profess  to  give  a  true  history  of  the 
birth,  life,  and  death  of  the  Christian  Saviour  ; 
and  so  much  has  been  said  as  to  their  entire 
harmony,  as  synoptical  records,  that  one  is 
amazed  in  discovering  how  widely  they  differ 
where  it  is  presumed  they  ought  to  be  in  per 
fect  agreement. 

"  Matthew  commences  by  giving  the  gene 
alogy  of  Christ  from  David  up  through  Jo 
seph,  the  husband  of  Mary,  and  makes  tttienty- 
sijc  generations  ;  Luke  also  gives  a  genealogy 
from  Christ  through  Joseph  down  to  David, 
the  same  progenitor,  but  records  forty-three 
generations,  through  a  different  line  of  ances 
try.  Now,  if  Matthew  was  right,  Luke  must 
have  been  wrong ;  aad  as  equal  inspiration 
has  been  claimed  for  both,  it  one  is  wrong, 
both  may  be  wrong. 

"  The  annunciation  is  not  mentioned  in  the 
gospels  ascribed  to  Mark  and  John,  but  is 
differently  related  in  Matthew  and  Luke.  The 
former  says,  that  the  angel  appeared  to  Joseph, 
the  latter  that  it  was  to  Mary  ! 

"  Matthew  alone  mentions  any  thing  concern 
ing  the  destruction  of  the  children  by  Herod  ; 
upon  this  important  matter,  the  other  Gospels 
are  singularly  silent  ;  no  historian  of  the  d*ty 
uiakes  the  slightest  allusion  to  such  a  circum- 

*  The  oldest  we  new  have  are  of  the  fifth  century. 


stance  ;  neither  does  Josephus  (and  he  would 
not  have  spared  Herod)  say  a  word  about 
such  a  cruel  act.  There  is  no  proof  that  such 
a  slaughter  by  Herod  ever  took  place,  and  the 
story  has  been  pronounced  apocryphal.  An 
atrocity  of  this  kind  would  have  caused  a 
great  sensation,  and  would  have  besn  noticed 
bv  historians.  Sir  William  Jones,  in  his 
(Christian  Theism,  page  84,  gives  reason 
for  believing  that  the  whole  story  is  probably 
of  Hindoo  origin,*  and  Greg  says,  '  Luke's 
account  entirely  precludes  the  sojourn  in 
Egypt.  He  says  that  eight  days  after  the 
birth  of  Jesus  he  was  circumcised,  &\\A.  forty 
days  afterward  he  was  presented  in  the  tem 
ple,  and  that  when  these  legal  ceremonies 
were  accomplished,  he  went  with  his  parents 
to  Nazareth.'  There  is  a  strange  discrepancy 
between  Matthew  and  Luke  as  to  where  Joseph 
and  Mary  originally  lived.  Luke  says  they 
lived  at  Nazareth  before  the  birth  of  Jesus, 
Matthew  declares  they  did  not  reside  there  un 
til  after  that  event. 

"  Matthew,  in  particular,  has  been  noted  for  a 
tendency  to  '  accommodate,'  or  find  in  Jesus 
the  fulfillment  of  supposed  prophecies ;  and  to 
'alter'  and  'extend'  words  and  meanings 
for  that  purpose.  To  effect  this,  he  has  nar 
rated  circumstances  respecting  which  the 
other  evangelists  remain  silent  His  repeated 
expressions,  '  That  it  might  be  fulfilled,'  'For 
it  is  written,'  and  others  of  a  similar  kind, 
were  used  to  adduce  passages  which  had  no 
possible  reference  or  application  to  Jesus,  but 
merely  to  show  the  dogmatic  purpose  of  the 
writer ;  and  we  have  already  shown  that  emi 
nent  Christian  men  do  not  accept  such  appli 
cation. 

"  At  the  birth  of  Christ,  Matthew  tells  us 
(chapter  2)  that  idse  men  came  from  the  East 
to  worship  him,  and  were  directed  by  a  star  ; 
Luke  states  (chapter  2)  that  they  were  but 
shepherds  from  a  field,  led  by  an  angd  ! 

"  Matthew  (chapter  8,  verse  5)  informs  us 
that  a  centurion  came  personally  to  Jesus,  and 
begged  him  to  heal  a  servant ;  Luke  (chapter 
7)  says  that  the  centurion  did  not  go  himself, 
but  sent  '  elders  of  tJie  Jews '  to  request  the 
favor ! 

"  Matthew's  frequent  amplification,  or  rather 
multiplication,  is  quite  apparent.  In  chapter 
eight,  he  gives  an  account  of  the  healing  of 
two  furious  demoniacs  whose  unclean  spirits 
entered  a  herd  of  swine ;  but  Mark  and  Luke 

*  Many  centuries  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  the  Hin 
doo  scriptures  contained  the  following  legend  con 
nected  with  the  incarnation  of  Chrishnu,  the  favorite 
god  or  "  saviour  "  of  India : 

Chrishnu,  a  god-begotten  child,  was  the  son  of  Vish 
nu,  the  principal  god  of  the  Hindoo  Trinity,  by  a  wo 
man  named  Uevaki,  the  wife  of  Vasudeva.  Shortly 
before  the  birth  of  Chrishuu,  a  mighty  demon  called 
Kausa,  being  apprised  that  a  child  would  be  born  that 
was  forever  to  overthrow  his  power,  summoned  his 
chief,  Asuras,  and  ordered :  '•  Let  active  search  be 
made  for  whatever  young  children  there  may  be  upon 
the  earth,  and  let  every  boy  of  unusual  vigor  be  slain 
without  remorse." 

Tin'  sacred  child,  Chrishnu,  was,  however,  saved  by 
Nauda,  a  cowhrrd.  whose  wife  had  a  child  of  the  same 
age  called  Kama,  or  Uala  llama,  and  spoken  of  as  the« 
brother  of  Chrishnu. 

This  very  ancient  legend  was,  it  is  said,  derived  by 
the  Hindoos  from  a  tradition  still  more  remote,  and 
is,  no  doubt,  one  of  those  upon  which  is  most  certainly 
founded  the  myth  of  Herod's  slaughter  of  the  muo 
cents. 


116 


EXETER    HALL. 


say  there  was  only  one  demoniac.  This  story, 
however,  is  one  of  the  most  wretched  scriptu 
ral  absurdities,  and  has  cast  a  leaven  of  doubt 
into  the  mind  of  many  a  believer. 

"  In  the  twentieth  chapter  of  Matthew,  there 
is  the  repetition  of  a  miracle  related  in  the 
ninth  chapter,  giving  sight  to  two  blind  men 
near  Jericho  ;  but  Mark  (10th)  and  Luke  (18th) 
mention  the  cure  of  only  one  blind  man,  and 
only  on  one  occasion. 

"  Matthew  and  Mark  give  two  variable  ac 
counts  of  the  feeding  of  the  multitude ;  while 
Luke  and  John  tell  of  but  one  feeding.  Mat 
thew  (chapter  14)  says  there  were  about  Ji-ce 
thousand  men,  besides  women  and  children, 
and  only  '  Jive  loaves  and  two  fishes,'  and  that 
alter  all  had  been  fed,  twelve  basketfuls  re- 
remained.  In  the  next  chapter,  he  repeats  the  j 
miracle — four  thousand  men,  '  besides  women 
and  children,'  were  then  fed  ;  there  were  'seven 
loaves  and  a  few  little  fishes,'  and  seven  bas- 
ketsful  remained.  Neither  Mark  nor  Luke 
say  there  were  any  '  women  and  children  ;' 
and  many  commentators  believe  that  there 
was  but  one  feeding  of  a  multitude. 

"  According  to  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke, 
Jesus,  '  immediately  '  after  his  baptism  in  the 
Jordan,  'was  led  (or  driven)  by  the  spirit  into 
the  wilderness,'  where  he  remained  forty 
days  '  tempted  of  the  devil.'  This  is  truly 
one  of  the  most  improbable  stories  in  the  New 
Testament ;  even  John  the  evangelist  must 
have  disbelieved  it,  for  his  gospel  altogether 
excludes  such  a  conference.  John,  in  his  first 
and  second  chapters,  gives  a  positive  contradic 
tion  to  the  narrative.  He  states  that  on  the 
first  day  after  the  baptism,  Jesus  remained  with 
John,  (the  baptist ;)  that  he  conversed  on  the 
second  day  with  Peter ;  that  he  attended  the 
marriage  of  Cana  on  the  third  day  ;  after  that, 
he  went  to  Capernaum,  and  afterward  to  the 
passover  at  Jerusalem ;  leaving  it  therefore 
impossible  for  Jesus  to  have  been  at  all  in  the 
wilderness,  even  for  a  single  day  ! 

"  At  the  baptism  of  Christ,  John  '  bare  record ' 
of  him,  and  '  saw  the  spirit  like  a  dove  de 
scend  upon  him,'  heard  the  recognition  of  his 
sonship  in  a  voice  from  heaven,  '  and,  looking 
upon  Jesus  as  he  walked,  he  (John)  saith, 
Behold  the  lamb  of  God !'  Yet,  strange  to 
say,  shortly  afterward  —  Matthew,  chapter  11, 
Luke,  chapter  7 — the  very  same  John,  when 
in  prison,  '  sent  disciples '  to  Jesus  to  learn 
whether  he  was  the  true  Messiah  !  '  Art  thou 
he  that  should  come,  or  look  we  for  another  V 
Much  priestly  ingenuity  has  been  used  to 
shield  John  the  Baptist  from  inferred  oblivi- 
ousness,  but  the  r*  cord  is  too  plain. 

"  We  must  overlook  numerous  other  discre 
pancies  —we  shall  not  have  time  to  examine 
them  on  this  occasion — and  we  will  only  refer 
at  present  to  those  relating  to  the  crucifixion, 
and  to  subsequent  events  recorded  by  the 
apostles. 

"  When  Christ  was  brought  to  execution, 
Matthew  says,  '  They  gave  him  vinegar  to 
drink,  mingled  with  gall  ;'  Mark  says,  '  \Viue, 
bungled  with  myrrh!' 

"  Matthew  atiirms  that  the  tiro  thieves  who 
were  crucified  with  Christ  reviled  him  at  the 
time ;  Luke  writes  that  but  one  '  malefactor  ' 


did  so,  and  was  rebuked  by  the  other  for  80 
doing ! 

"  The  four  evangelists  differ  as  to  the  exact 
words  of  the  superscription  on  the  cross. 

"  The  discrepancies  respecting  Judas  are  re 
markable.  According  to  Matthew,  (27th 
chapter)  Judas  repented,  returned  the  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  and  then  hung  himself;  and 
that  the  priests  took  the  money  and  buuylit 
the  potter's  field  with  it. 

"Acts  1  :  18  implies  that  Judas  did  not  re 
pent,  that  he  did  not  return  the  money,  that  he 
was  not  liung  ;  but  states  that  he  '  purchased 
a  field  with  the  reward  of  iniquity,  and  lall- 
ing  ln-adloug,  he  burst  asunder  in  the  midst, 
and  all  his  bowels  gushed  out !' 

"  Matthew  relates  that  extraordinary  occur 
rences  took  place  immediately  after  the  death 
of  Christ.  '  The  vail  of  the  temple  was  rent  in 
twain,  the  earth  did  quake,  the  rocks  rent, 
graves  were  opened,  bodies  of  the  saints 
which  slept  arose  and  came  out  of  the  graves 
after  his  resurrection,  and  went  into  the  holy 
city,  and  appeared  unto  many.'  What  a  fear 
ful  time,  and  what  dreadful  appearances ! 
All  quite  public!  Yet  Matthew  alone  makes 
such  a  record.  No  other  writer  of  the  New 
Testament  makes  any  allusion  to  such  an 
earthquake  or  opening  of  graves. 

"  The  account  is  very  confused.  Verse  52  of 
the  27th  chapter  leads  us  to  believe,  that  the 
dead  arose  and  appeared  on  the  very  day  of 
the  crucifixion,  but  the  next  verse  says,  that 
they  came  out  of  their  graves  '  after  the  re 
surrection.'  These  statements  are  admitted 
to  be  irreconcilable.  Greg  says,  '  There  can, 
we  think,  remain  little  doubt  in  unprepossess 
ed  minds  that  the  whole  legend  was  one  of 
these  intended  to  magnify  and  honor  Christ, 
which  were  current  in  great  numbers  at  the 
time  when  Matthew  wrote,  and  which  he, 
with  the  usual  want  of  discrimination  and 
somewhat  omnivorous  tendency  which  distin 
guished  him  as  a  compiler,  admitted  into  his 
gospel. '  * 

"  When  Christ  was  put  into  the  sepulchre, 
Matthew  states  that  the  Pharisees  applied  to 
Pilate  for  a  guard  to  be  placed  over  it,  to  pre 
vent  the  body  being  stolen ;  and  that  a  watch 
was  therefore  set  and  the  sepulchre  sealed. 
Yet  none  of  the  other  gospels  say  any  thing 
of  such  an  av>plication,  or  of  any  watch  or 
guard,  or  of  the  sealing  of  the  sepulchre,  or 
of  the  earthquake.  According  to  their  ac 
counts,  there  were  none  of  the^e  things. 

"After  the  resurrection,  Matthew  says  that 
Jesus  first  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene  and 
the  other  Mary,  on  their  way  from  the  sepul 
chre,  who '  held  him  by  the  feet,  and  worshiped 
him.'  lie  next  met  the  eleven  disciples,  by  ap 
pointment,  'upon-  a  mountain,  in  Galilee. 

*  Similar  prodigies  were  said  or  supposed  to  ac 
company  the  deaths  of  many  great  men  in  former  days, 
[long  before  Christ,]  as  in  the  case  of  Ca'twr.  (Virgil, 
Georg.  1,  4li3,  et  seq.)  Shakespeare  lias  embalmed  some 
traditions  of  the  kind,  exactly  analogous  to  the  pre 
sent  case.  See  Julias  (Jamr,  act  11.,  scene  2.  Again 
he  says,  Hamlet,  act  i.  scene  1 : 

"lu  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 

A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  lell. 
«  The  graves  stood  tenantles*,  and  the  sheeted  dead 
Did  squeak  and  gibber  iii  the  Itoinan  streets." 
Grey,  p.  138. 


EXETER    HALL. 


117 


"According  to  Murk,  '  He  appeared  first  to 
Mary  Magdalene ;' next, ,' in  another  form,  to 
two  of  tliem  ;'  '  afterward  to  tlie  eleven  as  they 
sat  at  meat !' 

"  By  Luke,  first,  'toward  evening'  as  he 
sat  at  meat  with  two  at  a  village  '  called 
Emmaus,  which  was  from  Jerusalem  about 
three-score  furlongs.'  Next,  he  appeared 
in  the  midst  '  of  them  '  at  Jerusalem,  where 
he  ate  '  broiled  fish  and  honey-comb.'  After 
this,  he  led  them  out  as  far  as  Bethany,  and, 
having  blessed  them,  '  was  parted  from  them 
find  carried  up  into  heaven.' 

"According  to  John,  he  first  appeared  at  the 
sepulchre  to  Mary  Magdalene,  whom  \\efvrbid 
to  touch  him  ;  afterward,  on  the  evening  of  the 
same  day,  at  Jerusalem,  in  the  midst  of  his  dis 
ciples,  in  a  closed  apartment,  the  doors  being 
shut ;  eight  days  afterward,  in  the  same  place, 
when  Thomas  was  present,  who  was  permitted 
to  toi.irh  him, ;  and  again,  for  the  last  time,  to 
his  disciples,  at  the  Sea  of  Tiberias. 
"The  startling  discrepancies  in  these  accounts 
as  to  when,  where,  by  whom,  and  how  often 
Jesus  was  seen  after  his  death  should,  one 
might  think,  entirely  disqualify  them  from 
being  received  as  evidence.  Those  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  read  the  passages  in  full 
from  the  Testament  will  discover  the  utmost 
confusion  as  to  time,  place,  and  circumstance  ; 
we  shall  just  look  at  two  or  three  of  them. 
One  account  says  that  Mary  Magdalene  and 
the  other  Mary  held  Jesusby  the  feet ;  another, 
that  he  would  not  permit  himself  to  be  touch 
ed  by  her,  because  he  had  '  not  yet  ascended 
to  his  Father ' !  And  yet  another  account 
certifies,  that  he  allowed  Thomas  to  touch  and 
examine  his  hands,  feet,  and  side! 

"  One  account  states  that  Christ  first  met  his 
disciples,  after  the  resurrection,  upon  a  moun 
tain  in  Galilee  ;  other  accounts  state  that  he 
met  them  at  meat,  in  a  closed  room,  at  Jerusa 
lem  !  One  account  leads  to  the  certain  infer 
ence  that  he  took  final  leave  of  bis  disciples 
at  Bethany,  and  ascended  to  heaven  the  very 
day  of  his  resurrection  ;  another  states  that  he 
remained  and  ate  and  drank  with  his  disciples 
for  several  days  after  his  resurrection ;  and 
Acts  1  states  that  he  ascended  from  Mount 
Olivet !  It  would  be  impossible  to  compile 
more  glaring  contradictions. 

"  The  several  accounts  of  the  conversion  of 
Paul  are  at  variance  ;  and,  had  we  time,  we 
could  furnish  such  a  list  of  palpable  discre 
pancies  and  contradictions,  such  clashing, 
repugnant,  incompatible,  and  inconsistent  his 
tories,  statements,  and  doctrines,  all  given  as 
'  inspired  truth,'  that  we  venture  to  say  no 
other  book  yet  printed  can  exceed  tlie  Bible 
in  this  particular  in  the  same  number  of 
pages. 

"  Even  after  all  the  inspiration  said  to  have 
been  given,  and  after  all  the  great  care  taken  ! 
to  make  the  present  selection  of  biblical  books  ! 
perfect,  yet  many  chapters,  parts  of  chapters, 
and  verses  have  been  declared  spurious!     In  j 
the    New    Testament,  the   first   and   second  j 
chapters  of  Matthew  ;  the  first  and  second  of 
Luke  ;  the  hist  twelve  verses  of  the  sixteenth 
chapter  of  Mark  ;  besides  certain  verses,  here 
and  there,  in  gospels,  acts,  and  epistles.     In 
this  scientific,  enlightened,  and  inquiring  age, 


there  can  be  no  greater  fraud  than  to  continue 
to  assert  that  such  an  incongruous  mass  aa 
that  contained  in  the  Christian  Bible  is  a  re 
flection  of  the  divine  mind  or  a  revelation 
from  a  Supreme  Being  to  man. 

"  The  doctrines  of  the  Bible  are  not  original. 
Many  nations  of  antiquity  had  similar  reli 
gious  creeds  and  ceremonies,  long  before  the 
alleged  time  of  Moses.  The  wonderful  re 
semblance  between  the  religious  docurinea 
and  ceremonies  of  the  Jews  and  Egyptians 
have  led  believers  in  the  Bible  with  peculiar 
assumption  to  assert  that  the  Egyptians  were 
but  mere  copyists  from  Moses ;  but  at  the 
time  when  it  is  said  that  Abraham  entered 
Egypt,  the  few  score  Jews  that  then  existed 
were  rude,  wandering  shepherds ;  dwellers  in 
tents,  ignorant  and  unskilled.  Then,  at  that 
very  period,  Egypt  was  a  proud,  ancient  king 
dom,  with  a  dense  agricultural  population ; 
it  had  its  learned  and  scientific  men ;  it  had 
houses,  and  palaces,  and  temples,  and  of  many 
of  these  the  rich  and  significant  ruins  still  re 
main.  Those  who  have  investigated  the 
antiquities  of  that  country  assert  these  facts. 
Kendrick,  in  his  Ancient  Egypt,  says,  '  It  is  a 
remarkable  fact  that  the  first  glimpse  we  ob- 
tuin  of  the  history  and  manners  of  the  Egyp 
tians  shows  us  a  nation  already  far  advanced 
in  all' the  arts  of  civilized  life  ;  and  the  same 
customs  and  inventions  that  prevailed  in  the 
Augustan  age  of  the  people,  after  the  acces 
sion  of  the  eighteenth  dynasty,  are  found  in  the 
remote  age  of  Osirtasen,  the  cocemporary  of 
Joseph,  nor  can  there  be  any  doubt  that  they 
were  in  the  same  civilized  state  when  Abraham 
visited  the  country.' 

"  We  shall  look  at  the  similarity  of  a  few  of 
the  ceremonies.  The  Egyptians  had  an  ark, 
boat,  or  shrine  carried  in  procession  by  the 
priests  ;  the  Mosaic  ark  was  born  by  the  Le- 
vites.  Gods  of  the  ancients  were  said  to  travel, 
and  were  provided  with  such  an  ark  for  con 
veyance  ;  the  Jews  had  an  ark  of  the  cove 
nant,  into  which  their  god  occasionally  en 
tered.  Speaking  of  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
as  being  but  a  model  of  the  Egyptian  shrine, 
Kendrick  says,  '  The  mixed  figures  of  the 
cherubim,  which  were  placed  at  either  end 
and  overshadowed  it  with  their  wings,  has  a 
parallel  in  some  of  the  Egyptian  representa 
tions,  in  which  kneeling  figures  spread  their 
wings  over  the  shrine.'  Kitto,  in  his  Biblical 
Cyclopedia,  furnishes  indirect  evidence  as  to 
which  was  the  more  ancient  religion ;  in 
order  to  illustrate  what  cherubim  were,  he 
gives  engravings  of  Egyptian  sphinxes  ! 
Who  will  assert  that  Judaism  is  older  than 
such  Egyptian  sculptures? 

"  Hittel  states  that '  The  religious  ceremonies 
of  the  Hebrews  bore  a  remarkable  resem 
blance  to  those  of  the  Egyptians.  The  Jews 
considered  Jerusalem  a  holy  city,  and  attribut 
ed  great  religious  merit  to  pilgrimages 
thither.  In  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  there  were 
holy  places  also.  The  great  temple  of  Arte 
mis,  at  Bubastis,  was  visited  by  700,000  pil 
grims  annually,  if  we  can  believe  the  report 
of  Herodotus,  who  visited  Egypt  while  tha 
ancient  superstition  was  still  in  full  favor  with 

tlie  people.' 

"  The  Egyptians  offered  sacrifices  of  vege- 


118 


EXETER    HALL. 


tables  and  animals  to  the  gods,  and  so  did  the 
Jews.  The  Jewish  and  Egyptian  priests  slew 
the  sacrificial  animals  in  the  same  manner, 
by  cutting  the  throat.  The  Egyptians  pre 
ferred  red  oxen  without  spot  for  sacrifice,  and 
Moses  directed  the  selection  of  a  red  heifer. 
(Num.  19 :  2.)  The  custom  of  the  scape-goat 
(Lev.  16  :  21)  was  common  to  both  nations.  A 
sacred  fire  was  kept  continually  burning  in 
the  temple  of  Thebes  as  well  as  in  India. 
(Lev.  6  :  12, 13.)  Egyptian  priests  took  off 
their  shoes  in  the  temples,  and  Joshua  took  off 
his  shoes  in  a  holy  place.  (Josh.  5  : 15.)  The 
Egyptian  priests  danced  before  their  altars, 
and  the  same  custom  prevailed  in  Jerusalem. 
(Ps.  149  :  3.)  The  practice  of  circumcision, 
claimed  by  Moses  as  a  divine  ordinance  com 
municated  to  Abraham,  is  proved  by  the 
monuments  of  Egypt  to  have  been  fully  esta 
blished  there  at  a  time  long  antecedent  to  the 
alleged  date  of  Abraham.  Herodotus  wrote 
that  in  his  time  '  the  Phoenicians  and  the 
Syrians  say  they  learned  it  (circumcision)  from 
the  Egyptians.'  The  Egyptians  had  their 
unclean  meats,  including  pork,  as  well  as  the 
Jews.  The  Egyptians  anointed  their  kings 
and  priests  long  before  there  were  any  kings 
or  priests  in  Israel.  The  Urim  and  Thum- 
mim,  (Ex.  39  :  8, 10 ;  Lev.  8  :  8,)  which  play  a 
stupid  part  in  the  books  of  Moses  and  Joe 
Smith,  were  once  not  inappropriate  figures  of 
Re,  the  god  of  light,  and  Therm,  the  goddess 
of  justice,  (whence  the  Greek  Themis,)  worn 
on  the  breasts  of  Egyptian  judges. 

"  The  Jews  reverenced  the  name  of  Jehovah 
precisely  as  the  Egyptians  did  the  sacred  name 
of  Osiris.  It  is  even  known  that  Herodotus, 
after  having  been  at  Memphis,  when  writing 
about  that  divinity,  would  not  use  his  name. 

"  Certain  writers  in  favor  of  the  Jews  have 
had  the  temerity  to  assert  that  the  idea  of  one 
supreme  God  originated  with  them.  The 
Rev.  Robert  Taylor,  in  his  Diegesis,  gays,  '  The 
notion  of  one  Supreme  Being  was  universal. 
No  calumny  could  be  more  egregious  than 
that  which  charges  the  pagan  world  with  ever 
having  lost  sight  of  that  notion,  or  compro 
mised  or  surrendered  its  paramount  impor 
tance  in  all  the  varieties  and  modifications  of 
Kgan  piety.  This  predominant  notion  (admits 
asheim)  showed  itself,  even  through  the 
darkness  of  the  grossest  idolatry.'* 

"  That  the  worship  of  Egyptian,  Jew,  and 
Pagan  was  in  many  respects  very  absurd, 
few  are  now  inclined  to  doubt ;  but  the 
Egyptian  was  more  speculative  and  philo 
sophical.  Much  has  been  said  concerning 
their  worship  of  the  onion.  The  Rev.  Robert 
Taylor  says,  '  The  respect  he  (the  Egyptian) 
paid  to  it  referred  to  a  high  and  mystical  order 
of  astronomical  speculations,  and  was  purely 
emblematical.  The  onion  presented  to  the 
eye  of  the  Egyptian  visionary  the  most  curi 
ous  type  in  nature  of  the  disposition  and 
arrangement  of  the  great  solar  system.'  This 
learned  author,  in  his  Diege»is  proves,  we 
think  to  a  certainty,  that  the  Jews '  plagiarized 

*  All  the  inferior  deities  In  Homer  are  represented  as 
then  addressing  the  supreme  JOVE — 
"  O  first  and  greatest  GOD  I  by  gods  adored, 
We  own  thy  power,  our  Father  aud  our  Lord." 

Iliad. 


the  religious  legends '  and  ceremonies  of  other 
nations,  particularly  from  the  Egyptians,  and 
that  their  ancient  and  mystical  theology  forms 
the  grand  basis  of  the  Jewish  patch-work  of 
rites  and  ceremonies,  so  often  mistaken  for 
the  original  creed,  and  so  lauded  as  the  'di 
vine  porch  to  the  temple  of  the  New  (Testa 
ment)  by  the  clerical  autocrats  of  Exeter  Hall.* 

"  But  what  of  Christianity  1  Was  not  that 
something  original?  Was  not  the  idea  of  a 
God-begotten  child,  of  a  celestial  Saviour, 
entirely  new  1  Surely,  there  was  something 
in  this  '  wonderful  plan,'  of  which  man  had 
no  previous  conception.  Let  us  see.  It  was  a 
common  idea  in  ancient  times  to  fancy  that 
great  men  or  great  heroes  were  descended  from 
the  gods.  Jesus  Christ  had  prototypes  in 
-cEsculapius,  Hercules,  Adonis,  Apollo,  Pro 
metheus,  (who  it  is  said  was  crucified,)  Chrish- 
nu,  and  many  othere.  Of  JSsculapius,  the 
Rev.  Robert  Taylor  Bays,  (Diegesis  p.  149,) 
'  The  worship  of  JEsculapius  was  first  estab 
lished  in  Egypt,  the  fruitful  parent  of  all 
varieties  of  superstition.  He  is  well  known 
as  the  god  of  the  art  of  healing,  and  his 
Egyptian  or  Phoenician  origin  leads  us  irre 
sistibly  to  associate  his  name  and  character 
with  that  of  the  ancient  Therapeuts,  or  society 
of  healers,  established  in  the  vicinity  of 
Alexandria,  whose  sacred  writings  Eusebius 
has  ventured  to  acknowledge  were  the  first 
types  of  our  four  gospels.  The  miracles  of 
healing  and  of  raising  the  dead,  recorded  in 
those  Scriptures,  are  exactly  such  as  these  su 
perstitious  quacks  would  be  likely  to  ascribe 
to  the  founder  of  their  fraternity. 

" '  By  the  mother's  side,  ^Esculapius  was  the 
son  of  Caronis,  who  had  received  the  embraces 
of  God,  but  for  whom,  unfortunately,  the  wor 
shipers  of  her  son  have  forgotten  to  claim  the 
honor  of  perpetual  virginity.  To  conceal 
her  pregnancy  from  her  parents,  she  went  to 
Epidaurus,  and  was  there  delivered  of  a  eon. 
whom  she  exposed  upon  the  Mount  of  Myrtles; 
when  Aristhenes,  the  goat-herd,  in  search  of  a 
goat  and  a  dog  missing  from  his  fold,  dis 
covered  the  child,  whom  he  would  have  car 
ried  to  his  home  had  he  not,  in  approaching 
to  lift  him  up,  perceived  his  head  encircled 
with  fiery  rays,  which  made  him  believe  the 
child  to  be  divine.  The  voice  of  fame  soon 
published  the  birth  of  a  miraculous  infant ; 
upon  which  the  people  flocked  from  all 
quarters  to  behold  this  heaven-born  child. 

"  '  The  principal  result,  however,  of  this  re 
semblance  is  the  evidence  it  affords  that  the 
terms  or  epithets  of  '  our  Saviour ' — the 
Samour  being  God,  were  the  usual  designa 
tions  of  the  god  .iEsculapius;  and  that  mira 
cles  of  healing  and  resurrection  from  the  dead 
were  the  evidence  of  his  divinity  for  ages  be 
fore  similar  pretenses  were  advanced  for  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.' 

"  Middleton,  in  his  Free  Inquiry,  says : 
'  Strabo  informs  us  that  the  temples  of  JSscu- 
lapius  were  constantly  filled  with  the  sick, 
imploring  the  help  of  GOD  ;  and  that  they 

*  The  religious  ceremonies  of  the  Egyptians  and 
Jews  were  so  similar,  that  the  Koinan  law.  in  the  timo 
of  the  emperors,  to  prohibit  the  worship  of  Isis  in 
the  capitol,  spoke  of  the  Jewish  worship  as  though  it 
were  not  distinguishable  from  that  of  the 
HUM. 


119 


had  tables  *  hanging  around  them  in  which 
all  the  miraculous  cures  were  described. 
There  is  a  remarkable  fragment  of  one  of  these 
tables  still  extant,  and  exhibited  by  Gruter 
in  his  collection,  as  it  was  found  in  the  ruins 
of  .33sculapius'  temple  in  the  island  of  the 
Tyber  in  Rome ;  which  gives  an  account  of 
two  blind  men  restored  to  sight  by  ^Escula- 
pius  in  the  open  view  and  with  the  loud  accla 
mations  of  the  people,  acknowledging  the 
manifest  power  of  the  god.'  It  was  said  that 
lEsculapius  not  only  cured  the  sick,  but  raised 
the  dead;  and  that  Jupiter,  having  become 
fearful  or  jealous  of  his  power,  'slew  him 
with  a  thunderbolt.'! 

"  We  shall  pass  over  the  others,  to  call  your 
attention  to  the  remarkable  coincidence  there 
is  between  the  history  of  Christ  and  that  of 
Prometheus.  The  name  corresponds  with 
that  given  to  the  Christian  deity,  Providence. 
Prometheus,  it  was  asserted,  was  both  god 
and  man.  His  character  and  attributes  are 
depicted  in  the  beautiful  tragedy  of  yEschylus, 
Prometheus  Bound,  written  over  five  hundred 
years  before  the  Christian  era,  the  plot  being 
then  taken  from  'materials  of  an  infinitely 
remote  antiquity.'  Prometheus  was,  it  is  said, 
crucified  at  Mount  Caucasus,  as  an  atonement 
for  others.  At  his  crucifixion,  there  was  great 
darkness  and  a  terrible  storm  ;  rocks  were  rent, 
graves  were  opened,  and  all  left  him  except  a 
few  faithful  women !  The  story  will  be  found 
more  detailed  in  the  Diegesis  of  the  Reverend 
Hobert  Taylor  ;  or,  had  we  the  lost  '  gospel  to 
the  Egyptians,' it  might  shed  some  light  up 
on  that  great  forerunner  of  the  Jewish  Logos.:): 
In  connection  with  this,  we  might  mention 
that  the  cross  is  of  pagan  origin.  Taylor  says, 
(Diegeris,  p.  2()1,)  '  It  should  never  be  forgot 
ten  that  the  sign  of  tke  cross,  for  ages  anterior 
to  the  Augustan  era,  was  in  common  use 
among  the  (Jentiles.  It  was  the  most  sacred 
symbol  of  Egyptian  idolatry.  It  is  on  most 
of  the  Egyptian  obelisks,  and  was  believed  to 
possess  all  the  devil-expelling  virtues  which 
liave  since  been  ascribed  to  it  by  Christians. 
The  monogram,  or  symbol  of  the  god 
Saturn,  was  the  sign  of  the  cross,  together 
with  A  ram's  horn.  Jupiter  also  bore  a  cross 
with  a  horn,  Venus  a  cross  with  a  circle.  The 
famous  Crux  Arugoata  is  to  be  seen  in  all  the 
buildings  of  Egypt ;  and  the  most  celebrated 
temples  of  the  idol  of  Chrishnu  in  India, 
like  our  Gothic  cathedrals,  were  built  in  the 
form  of  crosses.1 

*  Tablets. 

t  Ovid,  who  wrote  before  the  time  of  Christ,  gave 
In  Ms  MttamorpfiosM,  second  book,  this  prediction 
eonaerningtiie  life  and  actions  of  J3sculapius,the  great 
physicians 

•"  Once  »s  the  -sacred  Intant  she  surveyed. 
The  god  was  kindled  in  the  raving  maid, 
And  thus  si&e  uttered  her  prophetic  tale  : 
Hail,  great  physician  of  the  world  !  all  hail  1 
Hail,  mighty  infant  3  who  in  years  to  come 
Shall  heal  Ihe  nation*  and  defraud  the  tomb. 
Swift  be  thy  growth.,  thy  triumphs  unconflncd, 
Make  kingdoms  thicker,  and  increase  mankind  ; 
Thy  daring  art  shall  animate  the  dead, 
And  draw  tlw3  thunder  on  thy  guilty  head  ; 
•Then  tkou  shall  die,  bat  from  the  dark  abode 
Shalt  rise  victorious  iand  be  twice  a  god." 

Addison's  versification. 

$  See  Potter's  translation  of  JSschylus. 


" '  On  a  Phoenician  medal  found  in  the  ruins 
of  Citium,  and  engraved  in  Dr.  Clarke's  Tra 
vels,  and  proved  by  him  to  be  Phoenician,  are 
inscribed  not  only  the  cross,  but  the  rosary  or 
string  of  beads  attached  to  it.'  The  cross 
was  also  found  in  the  ancient  temple  of  Sera- 
pis.  A  pious  writer,  Mr.  Skeltoa,  says,  '  How 
it  came  to  pass  that  the  Egyptians,  Arabians, 
and  Indians,  before  Christ  came  among  us, 
paid  a  remarkable  veneration  to  the  sign  of 
the  cross  is  to  me  unknown ;  but  the  fact  it 
self  is  known.' 

"  Another  very  marked  resemblance  is  to  be 
found  between  Sakya  Muni,  the  Buddhist  sav 
iour,  and  Christ.  Hittel  says,  '  The  life  of 
this  saviour,  Sakya  Muni,  bears  much  simi 
larity  to  that  of  Jesus.  He  was  an  incarnate 
god,  and  was  born  of  a  married  virgin  of 
royal  blood.  He  spent  six  years  in  the  wilder 
ness  as  a  hermit,  and,  having  been  purified 
by  penance,  he  went  to  the  populous  districts 
of  Hindoostan.  and  to  the  sacred  city  of  Be 
nares,  where  he  preached  the  gospel  of  Bud 
dhism,  wrought  miracles,  and  made  numerous 
converts.  Sakya  did  not  commit  his  doctrine 
to  writing ;  his  disciples  composed  numerous 
sacred  books,  containing  records  of  his  life 
and  teachings.' 

"  Hue,  in  his  book  Journey  through  the  Chi' 
nese  Empire,  chapter  fifth,  states, '  If  we  ad- 
dres-ed  a  Mongol  or  Thibetan  this  question, 
"  Who  is  Buddha  ?"  he  instantly  replied,  "  The 
saviour  of  men."  The  marvelous  birth  of 
Buddha,  his  life  and  instructions,  contain  a 
great  number  of  moral  truths  and  dogmas 
professed  in  Christianity.'  And  yet  these 
'  moral  truths '  were  disseminated  ages  be- 
fore  Christ. 

"  Father  Booris,  a  Catholic  missionary  to  the 
Buddhists  of  Cochin  China,  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  was  astonished  to  discover  rites  and 
ceremonies  among  that  people  similar  to  those 
of  his  own  church  ;  and  upon  this  he  wrote, 
'  There  is  not  a  dress,  office,  or  ceremony  in 
the  Church  of  Rome  to  which  the  devil  has 
not  here  provided  some  counterpart.'  And 
Murray,  in  his  History  of  Discoveries  in  Asia, 
alluding  to  Father  Booris,  says,  '  Even  when 
he  began  inveighing  against  the  idols,  he  was 
told  that  these  were  the  images  of  departed 
great  men,  whom  they  worshiped  exactly 
on  the  same  principle  and  in  the  same  man 
ner  as  the  Catholics  did  the  images  of  the 
apostles  and  martyra.'  In  fact,  while  Chris 
tianity  has  been  called  a  '  revamp  of  Bud 
dhism,'  '  the  Buddhism  of  the  West,'  Mil- 
man  and  Remusat  speak  of  Buddhism  as  '  the 
Christianity  of  the  East.' 

"  Were  we  not  limited  for  time,  we  could 
give  you  numerous  other  coincidences,  and  also 
prove  that  many  sayings  attributed  to  the 
Christian  Saviour  were  maxims  uttered  cen 
turies  before  his  birth.  The  most  noted  pla 
giarism  of  this  kind  is  that  of  the  golden 
rule  of  Confucius,  whose  24th  maxim  runa 
thus :  '  Do  to  another  what  you  would  he 
should  do  unto  you ;  and  do  not  unto  another 
what  you  would  not  should  be  done  unto  you. 
Thou  only  needest  this  law  alone ;  it  is  the 
foundation  and  principle  of  all  the  rest !' 

"We  find  that  there  are  three  principal  cha 
racters  in  the  Christian  Bible  :  the '  Almighty, 


120 


EXETER    HALL. 


or  spirit  of  good  ;  '  Satan,"  the  spirit  of  evil  ; 
and  the  person  known  as  the  '  Redeemer.' 
There  is  no  account  given  us  of  the  creation 
of  Satan  or  of  the  numerous  angels,  good  and 
bad,  which  are  said  to  exist.  We  are  told 
that  this  desperately  wicked  being  and  his 
adherents  were  once  denizens  of  heaven  itself, 


lion,  seeking  whom  lie  may  devour,'  doing 
with  a  certain  impunity,  all  the  harm  he  can. 
That  God,  desirous  of  revealing  his  will  to 
man,  did  so,  through  the  agency  of  men  whom 
he  inspired  for  that  purpose,  many  of  whom 
were  grossly  wicked  characters.  That  a  God 
of  pity,  whose  mercy  enduieth  forever,  in 


and,  consequently,  must  have  been  pure  and   anger  drowned  the  world  in  a  great  flood,  and 
'  holy.'    Satan  is  now  known  as  the  wicked  and  j  burnt  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.     That  he  chose, 


designing  one, '  going  about  seeking  whom  he 
may  devour.'  The  Divine  Being  is  said  to 
have  created  all  things,  and  to  have  pro 
nounced  them  '  very  good.'  How,  then,  came 
he  to  create  such  a  fiend  as  the  'devil,'  and 
permit  him  to  have  such  perfect  freedom,  even 
to  thwart  Heaven's  designs,  and  with  sufficient 
influence  to  counteract  the  '  atonement '  and 
successfully  urge  frail  humanity  down  .to 
'  eternal  ruin'  ? 

"  Bible  worshipers  tell  us  that  that  book  is 
plain  and  easily  understood  ;  that  it  is  the 
pure,  unadulterated  '  word  of  God.'  Yet,  upon 
examination,  it  is  found  false  in  its  history 
and  science,  gross  and  impure  in  its  morality, 
and  full  of  absurdities,  contradictions,  and 
anachronisms.  Priests,  with  lengthy  and  learn 
ed  commentaries,  then  endeavor  to  explain. 
When  they  find  a  palpable  error,  they  say,  '  It 
must  be  a  mistake  ;'  when  a  glaring  discre 
pancy  is  discovered,  then  they  find  an  '  interpo 
lation.'  Show  them  a  plain  contradiction, 
they  will  make  it  a  '  false  translation ;'  point 


in  preference  to  all  others,  a  wretched  and 
barbarous  race,  the  Jews,  to  whom  he  was 
especially  favorable ;  that  he  assisted  them  to* 
conquer,  rob,  murder,  and  utterly  destroy 
other  nations;  and  that  yet  '  there  is  no  re 
spect  of  persons  with  God'.'  That  God,  some 
times  alone  and  sometimes  in  company  of 
attendants,  visited  men,  talked  with  them, 
and  ate  and  drank  in  their  presence ;  and  yet 
that  '  no  man  hath  aeon  God  at  any  time.' 
That  David,  a  robber  and  murderer,  was  a 
man  'after  God's  own  heart ;'  that  Solomon, 
proud  and  licentious,  was  a  '  wise '  man. 
That  God  made  the  sun  and  moon  stand  still, 
in  order  that  a  greater  number  of '  his  enemies ' 
should  be  slaughtered.  That  Elijah,  in  a 
chariot  of  fire,  drawn  by  horses  of  fire,  went 
up  alive  to  heaven  '  in  a  whirlwind  ;'  and  yet 
that  '  no  man  hath  ascended  to  heaven  but  he 
that  came  down  from  heaven.'  That  a  witch 
raised  and  conversed  with  the  dead  Samuel. 
That  Nebuchadnezzar  'ate  grass  like  an  ox.' 
That  Balaam's  ass  spake.  That  a  whale  de- 


them  to  grossly  indecent  passages,  they  are  j  voured  Jonah,  and  that  he  was  afterward  cot 
'  figurative.'      Question  them  about  absurdi- 1  up  alive  and  unharmed.     That  Lazarus,  dead 


ties  of  doctrines,  they  will  call  them  'myste 
ries.'  Tell  them  of  the  violence  and  inhu 
manity  of  God's  chosen  rulers  and  people,  and 
they  will  find  you  a  ready  excuse.  They  will 
find  a  plea  for  indecency,  treachery,  and  blood  ; 
and  were  the  Bible  stamped  on  every  page, 
as  it  is  in  many  chapters,  with  assertions  con 
tradictory  to  science,  reason,  and  common 
sense,  the  plea  will  be,  '  it  is  because  they 


and  in  a  presumed  state  of  decay,  was  brought 
to  life.  That  a  herd  of  swine  became  possessed 
of  devils.  That  there  is  a  hell  where  a  '  mer 
ciful"  Creator  will  torture  'the  condemned' 
with  '  fire  and  brimstone'  forever,  and  that  his 
'  redeemed  saints '  shall  look  upon  such  atro 
cious  cruelty  with  satisfaction  and  approval. 

"  This,  then,  is  the  revelation  about  which 
interested  priests  and  those  they  can '  convert ' 


are   above   our  finite  comprehension !'     And  |  keep  up  such  an  excitement ;  they  tell  us,  with 


the  unmerciful,  revengeful  deity  of  the  Jews 
— '  the  assassin  of  humanity ' — will  be  repre 
sented  as  a  God  of  compassion,  '  full  of  pity 
and  loving-kindness,  whose  mercy  endureth 
forever!' 

"  To  submit  to  the  teachings  of  the  Christian 
Bible,  you  must  believe  that  there  is  a  Supreme 
Being,  pure,  just,  loving,  and  merciful;  that 
he  is  at  the  same  time  partial,  wrathful,  and 
unforgiving.  That  he  created  all  things  and 
pronounced  them  good,  and  afterward  repent 
ed  having  made  them  because  they  were  evil. 
.  That  man  was  created  pure,  and  holy,  and  in 
the  likeness  of  the  deity  ;  and,  that  afterward, 
without  being  permitted  to  know  good  from 
evil,  he  '  fell,'  and  became  sinful  and  wicked 


professional  effrontery,  that  it  is  a  '  free  gos 
pel,'  while  we  all  know  that  Christianity  is 
the  most  costly  of  all  religions,  exorbitant 
and  unceasing  in  its  demands.  During  the 
last  fifty  years,  the  British  and  American 
Bible  Societies  boast  that  they  have  circulated 
'80,000,000  of  copies  of  the  word  of  God 
among  the  heathen.'  Who  can  truly  prove 
that  in  so  doing  they  have  served  the  cause 
of  humanity  ?  In  Britain,  we  have  four  million 
sermons  annually  to  explain  conflicting  doc 
trines,  and  a  crowd  of  jarring  sects  to  retard 
human  progress  and  perpetuate  strife.  It  is 
said  that  at  the  birth  of  Christ  the  temple  of 
Janus  was  closed  ;  there  was  then  universal 
peace;  but  since  that  period,  the  Gospel  has. 


at  the  very  first  temptation.     That  Adam  and  j  been  '  a  sword '  upon  the  earth  and  religion 
his  posterity  were  condemned  and  cursed  for   a  greater  woe  to  mankind  1" 
the  offense  of  his  ignorance  ;  but  that  in  the 
course    of   time   a  deity   came   down    from 
heaven,  assumed  human  form,  and  died,  '  the 
just  for  the  unjust,'  to  satisfy  the  'justice' 
of  a  loving  Creator.     That  the  deity  who  suf 
fered,  called  the  Son,  was  just  as  old  as  his 
father.     That  there  is  but  one  God,  and  that 


there  are  three  Gods.  That,  notwithstanding 
the  power  of  omnipotence,  there  is  a  devil 
Laving  freedom  to  go  about  '  like  a  roaring 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THERE  was  a  great  shadow  moving  toward 
Hampstead  Cottage — a  shadow  that  was  des 
tined  to  rest  there,  and  lie  bleak  and  cold 
upon  the  hearts  of  some  of  its  inmates  for 
ever  1 


EXETER    HALL. 


121 


The  darling  of  the  household  had  a  few  days 
previously  taken  a  severe  cold,  and  inflammato 
ry  symptoms  had  increased.  The  delicate  boy 
was  very  low  ;  and  as  he  lay  restless  and  fever 
ish  in  his  sick  chamber,  his  sister  and  Hannah 
were  indefatigable  in  their  gentle  attentions. 
The  attack  was  rather  sudden  ;  and  though 
Mrs.  Mannors  felt  quite  alarmed  at  first,  she 
"  poured  out  her  soul  in  prayer,"  and  recovered 
her  equanimity.  She  had  now  no  fear  ;  she 
would  have  no  physician,  but  was  willing  to 
leave  results  in  the  hand  of  God  ;  she  was 
issured  he  would  not  take  her  child  from  her. 
liach  day  she  would  repeatedly  look  in  upon 
!ier  afflicted  son,  and  would  pray  a  short  time 
it  his  bedside,  and  then  move  about  from 
room  to  room  humming  pious  tunes,  and  mut 
tering  to  herself  encouraging  texts  and  prom 
ises  made  to  the  faithful ;  and  after  listening 
to  expressions  of  anxiety  from  Hannah,  she 
would  reproach  her  for  want  of  faith,  and  even 
liint  that  she  was  falling  from  her  high  estate ; 
and  then  she  would  go  on  humming  again, 
in  a  state  of  the  most  cheerful  resignation. 

Her  disposition  in  this  respect  was  unusual 
ly  strange.  Since  the  meeting  at  Exeter  Hall, 
nhe  had  attended  revival  or  protracted  meet 
ings  at  Mr.  Baker's  church,  and  for  over  a 
month  past  her  absent  manner  had  been  no 
ticed,  and  she  would  say,  that,  while  "dwell 
ing  upon  the  promises,"  her  soul  seemed  to 
leave  its  earthly  tenement  and  wander  to 
ward  Calvary  ;  and  that  she  was  becoming 
more  and  more  indifferent  to  the  things  of 
earth,  almost  weaned  from  every  tie — hus 
band,  children,  home.  This  condition  she 
insisted  was  the  best  evidence  of  her  entire 
devotion  to  Christ.  Formerly,  the  least  mis 
hap  to  William  touched  her  maternal  feelings 
to  the  quick  ;  and  if  it  were  of  a  serious  nature, 
she  would  become  almost  distracted  ;  but  now, 
when  Mary  wept  in  secret  over  the  sufferings 
of  her  brother,  when  even  Hannah  could  scarce 
ly  find  consolation  from  John  Bunyan,  Mrs. 
Mannors  was  perfectly  calm  and  confident  ; 
her  matured  faith  came  to  her  rescue  from  de 
spondency  in  the  hour  of  trial. 

The  stillness  around  the  whole  place  was 
very  great.  Outside,  the  sunbeams  seemed, 
as  it  were,  to  steal  down  timidly  upon  the  ivy, 
among  the  trembling1  leaves,  and  upon  the 
cages  at  the  door,  inducing  slumber  instead 
of  awakening  the  sprightly  melody  of  the  little 
prisoners.  The  flowers  appeared  to  signal 
Bad  tidings  to  each  other,  and  then  mournfully 
bend  down  their  pretty  innocent  heads  ;  and 
ihe  soft,  sad  wind  came  along  in  whispers, 
as  if  cautioning  you  not  to  speak  above  a 
breath.  Flounce  missed  his  companion,  and 
oven  when  resting  upon  the  smooth  garden 
walk,  his  silken  head  between  his  fore-pa \vs, 
would  look  up  whiningly  toward  the  curtained 
window  where  William  first  greeted  him  each 
morning  ;  and  people  as  they  passed,  heard 
neither  laugh  nor  song,  and  wondered  at  the 
unusual  quietness.  Within  the  house,  there 
was  almost  a  perfect  hush  ;  the  ticking  of  the 
clock  alone  could  be  heard  in  the  lower  rooms  ; 
while  the  quick,  heavy  breathing  of  the  pa 
tient,  and  the  sigh  of  his  loving,  sympathizing 
mister  were  distinctly  audible  in  the  upper 
apartments ;  and  no  sound  was  allowed  to 


disturb  any  momentary  slumber  that  might 
weigh  down  the  weary  lids  of  the  poor  sufferer. 
Mr.  Mannors  felt  the  affliction  very  keenly ; 
the  doctor  had  but  just  left  without  having 
given  any  great  encouragement,  and  the  own 
er  of  llampstead  Cottage  now  sat  alone  in 
his  quiet  study,  thinking  painfully  of  the 
brooding  trouble  that  seemed  to  approach  like 
the  first  great  cloud  over  the  sunshine  of  his. 
life ;  the  first  entry  of  sadness  into  his  pleas 
ant  home.  Though  very  anxious,  he  was, 
however,  still  hopeful,  and  trusted  that,  with 
proper  treatment  and  attention,  William 
might  be  aaain  restored.  But  this  was  not 
his  only  care  ;  he  was  a  keen  observer,  and 
had  noticed  the  gradual  indifference  shown 
by  Mrs.  Mannors,  not  only  toward  himself, 
but  to  every  one  in  the  house  ;  she  did  not 
seem  to  realize  the  danger  of  her  child.  Even 
Hannah  felt  that  her  mistress  was  getting,  as. 
she  said,  "  like  another  person,"  seldom 
speaking  to  her  about  household  matterfe,  and 
still  more  seldom  on  religious  subjects  ;  ali 
was  most  unaccountable.  She  saw  her  mis 
tress  go  about  alone,  and  heard  her  pray 
alone  ;  often  saw  her  sit  an  hour  or  longer  at 
a  time  in  the  garden  or  summer-house,  ap 
parently  thinking,  or  brooding  upon  some 
dark,  mysterious  subject,  yet  seemed  to  take 
no  more  pleasure  in  communicating  her 
thoughts  to  her;  this  to  poor  Hannah  was  a 
sore  deprivation,  the  reason  of  which  sht» 
could  not  fathom.  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
Mrs.  Mannors  was  more  devoted  than  ever  to 
her  religious  duties.  Night  after  night  she- 
would  attend  "  meeting,"  and  would  keep  by 
herself  upon  her  return  ;  she  seemed  indeed 
to  forget  that  she  had  ever  communed  with 
Hannah  about  future  blessedness. 

This  conduct  astonished  Mr.  Mannors  very 
much,  and  now,  as  lie  sat  thinking,  he  expe 
rienced  an  unusual  depression  of  spirits  ;  vis 
itors  could  not  be  received.  Mr.  Capel  had 
been  away  for  several  days,  and  might  not  re 
turn  very  soon,  as  he  knew  nothing  of  Wil 
liam's  illness ;  there  was  no  friend  near 
to  sympathize  ;  the-  house  seemed  desolate, 
and  as  he  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  garden, 
every  thing-  was  as  gloomy  as  his  own 
thoughts.  Never  before  bad  he- felt  so  dejected  ; 
but,  after  pacing  the  room  for  a  few  minutes* 
he  again  sat  down,  determined  to  meet  every 
trouble  like  a  brave  man — neither  to  cower  in 
adversity,  nor  despond  in  misfortune.  ';  These 
trials,"  said  he,  "  are  incident  to  human  life  ; 
no  matter  how  severe,  I  shall  try  and  meet 
them  in  a  becoming  manner,  and  act  my  parfe 
to  the  best  of  my  ability." 

It  was  getting  toward  evening,  all  was  yet 
still,  and  Mr.  Mannors,  having  taken  but  little 
rest  for  several  nights  past,  dozed  in  his- 
study  ;  he  sat  in  his  cushioned  chair,  with  hia 
arm  under  his  head,  resting  upon  his  desk,  and 
his  short  slumber  brought  consolation  as  well 
as  refreshment — it  gave  him  a  pleasant,  dream, 
a  dream  of  William's  restoration  ;  and  in  that 
mirage  of  the  desert,  sleep,  he  saw  William  and 
Mary  sit  again  among  the  sun-lit  hills,  and 
watched  the  dear  stream  sparkling  and  run 
ning  at  their  feet.  He  was  suddenly  awak 
ened  by  a  slight  noise  in  the  adjoining  room  ; 
he  looked  up,  and  Mrs.  Mannors-  stood  befor« 


EXETER    HALL. 


him.  There  was  a  wildness  in  the  expression 
of  her  foce,  and  she  held  out  a  Bible  at  arm's 
leagth,  and  her  other  hand  was  raised  in 
a  threatening  manner.  He  was  a  little 
startled,  and,  without  replying  to  his  inquiry 
about  William,  his  wife,  in  slow  and  solemn 
voice  read  from  the  book  of  Job,  "  How  oft  is 
the  candle  of  the  wicked  put  out !  and  how  oft 
con/eth  their  destruction  upon  them !  God 
dislribuieth  sorrows  in  his  anger.  They  are 
as  stubble  before  the  wind,  and  as  chaff  that 
the  storm  carrieth  away.  God  layeth  up  his 
iniquity  for  his  children ;  he  rewardeth  him, 
and  lie  «hall  know  it.  His  eyes  shall  see  de 
struction,  and  he  shall  drink  of  the  wrath  of 
the  Almighty." 

"'  Emma,  Emma,"  said  Mr.  Manners  quickly 
rising,  "  what  does  this  mean  ?" 

But  she  heeded  not ;  as  he  approached  her, 
ehe  stepped  back,  and  again  read,  "  This  is 
the  portion  of  a  wicked  man  with  God,  and 
the  heritage  of  oppressors  which  they  shall 
receive  of  the  Almighty,  If  his  children  be 
multiplied,  it  is  for  the  sword,  and  his  off 
spring  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  bread. 
Those  that  remain  of  him  shall  be  buried  in 
death,  aad  his  widows  «hall  not  weep." 

"  O  Emma  1  why  do  you  read  this  ?  Do  sit 
down,"  said  he  tenderly,  and  he  tried  to  lay  his 
hand  npon  her  upraised  arm.  Again  she  re 
treated  ;  a  frown  settled  upon  her  troubled 
face,  and.  looking  sternly  at  him,  repeated  this 
Terse  from  the  fourth  chapter  of  Hosea, 
•"  Seeing  thou  hast  forgotten  the  law  of 
thy  God,  I  will  also  forget  thy  children." 
So  saying,  she  flung  the  Bible  with  great 
lorce  at  his  feet,  and  turned  to  leave  the 
Toom.  He  seized  her  arm,  and  begged  of 
"her  to  be  seated,  to  be  calm,  and  talk  to 
"him  in  her  accustomed  manner.  "  Talk  to 
you,"  said  she,  turning  upon  him  with  a 
ecowl ;  "talk  to  you!  Have  I  not  spoken  to 
you,  and  entreated  you  for  years  without 
avail  ?  Talk  to  youl  My  God !  Have  you  not 
rejected  the  promises  and  threatenings  of  the 
Oospel,  aad  despised  God's  sanctuary  and  his 
ministers?  Have  you  not  lived  without  God 
and  without  hope  in  the  world  ?  and,"  said  she, 
lowering  her  voice,  "  you  will  die  in  despair ; 
and  your  blood — yes,  your  blood — be  upon 
your  head,  be  upon  your  own  head." 

She  again  tried  to  get  free,  but  the  strong 
arm  of  her  husband  held  her  in  the  chair. 
"  Let  me  speak  to  you,  Emma,"  said  Mr.  Man- 
Dors,  getting  alarmed.  "  Let  me  speak  to  you. 
What  is  the  matter  t  why  do  you  speak  to  me 
in  this  way  ?' 

"  Unbeliever,  be  gone !  We  have  been  un 
equally  yoked!  Oh!  how  I  have  sinned  by  re 
maining  here  so  long  I  What  if  God  has  with 
drawn  his  Spirit,  has  withdrawn  his  Spirit  eter 
nally,  eternally  ?  I  must  flee  from  this  city  of 
destruction — I  must,  I  most!" 

Hannah,  hearing  the  unusual  exclama 
tions,  just  then  rushed  into  the  room,  and 
»aw  her  mistress  in  an  excited  state,  strug 
gling  to  get  away.  The  poor  girl  was 
dreadfully  alarmed,  and  tried  to  soothe  her 
the  best  way  she  couid.  It  was  of  no 
use :  Mrs.  Manners  only  reproached  her 
again,  and  told  her  that  she  was  in  league 
with  the  evil  one  and  giving  encouragement 


to  an  unfaithful  man.  "  Yes,"  cried  she,  now 
standing  out  on  the  floor  and  stamping  with 
her  foot,  "Unfaithful,  unfaithful  to  me  and  to 
the  God  who  made  him  !  I  will  abide  among 
ye  no  longer." 

Mr.  Manners,  pale  and  calm,  looked  with, 
pity  upon  the  woman  for  whom  he  would 
readily  have  laid  down  his  life ;  he  seemed  to 
realize  at  once  the  dreadful  woe  that  had 
fallen  upon  her — a  woe  almost  as  dreadful  to 
him,  who  understood  its  nature.  Fearing  that 
any  alarm  might,  at  this  critical  time,  have  a 
fatal  effect  upon  his  child,  he  whispered  to 
Hannah,  who  now  almost  bewildered,  stood 
weeping,  and  trembling,  and  pleading  before 
her  mistress,  and  left  the  room  to  enter  the 
sick  chamber. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  step  upon  the  stairs, 
a  pale-faced  young  man,  with  an  extravagant 
shirt  collar,  a  person  whom  he  had  seen  some 
where  before,  and  who  might  have  been 
standing  or  waiting  at  the  door  some  time  un 
heard,  handed  him  a  letter ;  it  was  from  his 
Solicitors,  Vizard  &  Coke,  Gray's  Inn ;  and  as 
Mr.  Manners  hurried  up  to  the  sick-room,  the 
young  man  lingered  a  moment  or  two,  and 
with  sinister  expression  leered  into  the  par 
lor  where  Hannah  and  Mrs.  Manners  were 
yet  standing,  and  then,  when  he  was  walking 
away,  he  muttered,  "  Unfaithful !  unfaithful ! 
What !  such  a  paragon  as  Martin  Manners 
lacking  virtue !" 

About  seven  o'clock  that  evening,  many 
persons  were  seen  moving  toward  Mr.  Baker's 
church,  at  Hampstead  ;  a  great  revival  was  in 
progress,  and  for  several  successive  nights  a 
motley  crowd  of  saints  and  sinners  had  been 
collected,  and  it  was  said,  as  it  always  is  said, 
that  a  great  deal  of  good  had  been  done  ;  "the 
Lord  was  making  bare  his  arm,"  that  sinners 
were  "  struck  down  on  the  right  hand  and 
upon  the  left,"  and  that  "  many  precious 
souls"  were  now  able  to  sing  and  rejoice,  hav 
ing  obtained  "  the  blessing,"  and  been  fully 
restored  to  divine  favor.  In  about  an  hour's 
time,  the  church  was  crowded  ;  those  who 
were  "  under  conviction,"  mostly  women,  oc 
cupied  seats  and  pews  nearest  the  pulpit ; 
while  it  was  manifest  that  those  who  selected 
the  back  seats,  or  loitered  around  the  door 
ways,  belonged  to  the  "  unregenerate,"  of 
whom  there  were  still  a  sufficient  number  to 
excite  the  sympathy  and  start  the  spiritual 
activity  of  the  most  skilled  and  energetic  gos 
pel  workmen.  Two  preachers  occupied  the 
pulpit,  and  two  others,  supernumeraries,  sat 
within  the  railing  which  enclosed  it  and  the 
communion-table,  ready  at  the  proper  time  to 
perform  their  parts  toward  the  spiritual  re 
novation  of  such  sinners  as  might  be  brought 
within  their  reach.  Indeed,  it  was  plain  to 
be  seen  that  they  need  not  remain  M]e  for 
want  of  material  ;  for,  by  the  looks,  and  ges 
tures,  and  whispers  of  a  large  number  of  the 
congregation,  there  were  many  who  appeared 
to  attend  but  for  mere  pastime,  or  more  pro 
bably  to  enjoy  a  scene  peculiar  to  revivals. 

The  Rev.  James  Baker  now  stood  up  in  tho 
pulpit,  and,  having  looked  around  with  a  kind 
of  clerical  scrutiny  at  the  congregation,  said, 
"  Let  us  begin  the  worship  of  God  by  singing 
to  his  praise  the  hymn  to  be  found  on  paga 


EXETER    HALL. 


123 


27,  common  metro  ;"  and  then,  with  slow  and 
doleful  voice,  read  out  one  of  Wesley's  hymns 
of  six  verses,  commencing, 

"  Terrible  thought !  shall  I  alone, 

Who  may  be  saved,  shall  I, 
Of  all,  alas  !  whom  I  have  known, 
Through  gin,  forever  die  f 

"  While  all  my  old  companions  dear, 

With  whom  I  once  did  live. 
Joyful  at  God's  right  hand  appear, 
A  blessing  to  receive. 

"  Shall  I  amid  a  ghastly  hand, 

Drugged  to  the  judgment-seat 
Far  on  the  left  with  horror  stand, 
My  fearful  doom  to  meet  ?" 

During  the  time  occupied  in  reading  the 
hymn,  several  other  persons  entered  the 
church,  and  every  seat  was  crowded.  Having 
finished,  he  read  again,  and  gave  out  the  first 
two  lines  of  the  first  verse ;  the  choir,  who 
were  in  the  gallery,  commenced  to  sing  the 
hymn  to  the  tune  of  "  Mear  ;"  an  organ  led, 
and  as  the  player  fancied  that  the  occasion  re 
quired  its  most  thundering  tones,  so  he  per 
formed,  and  the  air  rushed  through  the  sten 
torian  pipes  nearly  loud  enough  to  drown  all 
the  principal  voices ;  it  would  be  next  to  im 
possible  to  combine  the  dipt  words  or  muti 
lated  lines  in  any  intelligible  form.  During 
this  particular  part  of  "  divine  service,"  most 
of  the  congregation  turned  from  the  preacher 
in  the  pulpit,  and  almost  one  and  all  gazed 
up  at  the  harmonious  assemblage  in  the  gal 
lery.  A  person  might  think  that  the  dreary 
music  was  to  them  the  most  important  and 
attractive  part  of  religious  duty,  and  that  they 
came  specially  to  hear  a  pious  song  instead  of 
a  long  sermon  ;  several,  however,  who  stood  in 
front,  nearest  the  railing,  "  raised  their  voices 
in  praise"  and  joined  in  the  singing  with  par 
ticular  fervor. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  hymn,  the  preacher 
began  his  prayer  in  a  low  and  tremulous  voice 
at   first ;   then   with  more   spirit ;   then  the 
words  came  faster  and  louder ;  yet   louder 
still;    then  loud,  long,  and  vociferous  —  his 
hands  being  extended  in  front,  and  sometimes 
waving   over   his  head  —  while   every  word 
seemed  to  fall  like  a  shaft  from  a  thunder 
cloud  among  the   trembling  sinners  of  the 
congregation.    The  preacher  strained  his  voice 
to  the  very  utmost,  until  at  last  he  became 
hoarse,   croaky,   and    incoherent ;   he  rather  | 
gasped  than  shouted,  and  when  he  could  scarce-  j 
ly  articulate  any  longer,  he  suddenly  descend- 1 
ed  from  the  fortissimo,  and  panting  from  the  I 
terrible  efforts  he  had  made,  closed  the  prayer  i 
in  his  natural  voice. 

The  appeal  itself  was  as  exciting  as  the  man- 1 
ner  of  him  who  was  interceding  ;,he  depicted 
the  state  of  the  lost  sinner ;  the  wrath  of  God  i 
and  the  terrors  of  the  damned  ;  and  at  irregu- 1 
lar  intervals,  during  the  continuance  of  his  ' 
invocation,  cries  and  groans  could  be  heard  i 
from   those  around  him.     Some  would  clap  j 
their  hands  ia  ecstasy ;   some  raise  them  in 
despair.    Some  would  cry  out  suddenly, "  Bless 
the  Lord,  bless  the  Lord!"     "  Lord,  save,  or  I 
perish !"  "  Son  of  David,  have  mercy  upon  me !" 
'•I  am  lost,  forever  lost!"  "OQod!"  "OLord!" 
till  at  one  time  it  seemed  as  if  each  one  of  the 
whole  congregation  was  shouting  in  a  different ! 


key,  in  a  different  tongue,  to  a  different  God — • 
a  bedlam  let  loose — plunging  the  timid  in 
apprehension,  and  forcing  alarm  upon  the 
weak-minded,  while  many  nervous  persons 
were  atfected  by  the  most  painful  emotions. 
Another  hymn  was  then  sung  in  a  minor 
strain,  and  at  its  close  it  was  evident  that  the 
feelings  of  most  present  were  in  a  sufficiently 
plastic  state,  ready  to  receive  any  inpression. 

Mr.  Baker's  pulpit-companion  then  stood 
before  the  people ;  he  was  an  older  man,  mild- 
looking,  and  less  robust ;  his  lank,  gray 
hair  hung  down  behind,  covering  his  coat- 
collar,  and  in  front  it  was  parted  in  the 
centre.  He  waited  with  lugubrious  aspect 
until  all  were  settled  in  their  seats ;  until 
every  rustle  and  cough  had  subsided  ;  then, 
drawing  a  long  sigh,  he  gave  out  as  his  text, 
the  three  last  verses  of  the  third  chapter  of 
Lamentations,  "  Render  unto  them  a  recom 
pense,  0  Lord  !  according  to  the  work  of  their 
hands.  Give  them  sorrow  of  heart,  thy  curse 
unto  them.  Persecute  and  destroy  them  in 
anger  from  under  the  heavens  oi  the  Lord." 

The  sermon  which  followed — though  not  a 
fair  illustration  of  the  text — was  a  terrible 
picture  of  the  woe  which  would  surely  result 
from,  "wickedness  and  unbelief;"  these 
words  he  repeated  several  times,  as  being 
synonymous.  The  wicked  man  might  grow 
up  and  prosper  for  a  while,  and  might  con 
sider  the  wretched  enjoyments  of  this  world 
as  only  worth  living  for  ;  who  could  see  no 
sin  in  their  delusive  attractions,  or,  if  he 
did,  would  put  off  repentance  ;  who  was  wil 
ling  to  procrastinate,  in  order  to  dally  a  little 
longer  with  the  vanities  of  life.  Such  a -one 
might  perhaps  find  himself  suddenly  cut  off, 
cursed  by  God,  and  bewailing  his  misery  in 
the  lowest  depths,  in  company  with  scoffers 
and  unbelievers.  It  was  "  a  terrible  thing  to 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God."  To 
secure  heaven,  every  idol  should  be  struck 
down.  No  sacrifice  should  be  considered  too 
great  to  insure  eternal  happiness.  The 
treasures  of  the  heart,  friends,  home,  children, 
were  unworthy  to  be  permitted  to  stand  in  the 
way,  and,  if  .necessary,  these  —  even  these  — 
should  be  forgotten  for  the  "  Friend  of  sin 
ners.  " 

During  the  discourse,  the  preacher  at  timea 
became  most  excited ;  his  voicn  was  loud,  and 
his  gesticulation  often  wild  and  rapid,  stamp 
ing,  thumping  the  desk,  or  clapping  his  hands. 
He  used  a  battery  of  threatening  texts,  and 
a  profusion  of  sounding  words,  to  depict  God's 
anger ;  and  after  he  had  drawn  a  lively 
picture  of  eternal  torments,  he  lowered  his 
voice,  and  cautioned,  beseeched,  entreated, 
yea,  commanded,  his  terror-stricken  hearers 
to  "  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,"  to  accept 
"  God's  plan  of  salvation  "  ere  it  be  forever  too 
late.  Alas !  they  might  now  hear  the  voice 
of  pleading — the  voice  of  God's  minister  for 
the  last  time  ;  and  it  might  be  that  ere  the 
rise  of  another  sun,  some  now  present 
might  stand  terror-stricken  at  the  bar  of  an 
offended  God.  But,  he  said,  there  was  still 
hope,  another  opportunity  yet  offered  ;  they 
were  as  yet,  thank  God,  out  of  hell — here  he 
raised  his  voice  again,  and  thumped  the 
pulpit ;  and  lowering  it  to  a  hush,  said,  "  Th« 


124 


EXETER    HALL. 


Mediator  is  still  pleading  ;  now,  yes,  now,  is  the 
accepted  time,  and  by  presenting  yourselves 
this  night  before  the  mercy-seat,  God,  even 
our  God,  may  be  yet  gracious." 

When  the  discourse  was  ended,  there  was  a 
feeling  of  relief  ;  some  began  to  breathe  more 
freely,  but  many  others  were  deplorably  cast 
down.  The  preachers  left  the  pulpit  and 
joined  their  brethren  below.  An  invitation  was 
then  given  to  all  those  who  felt  a  desire  "  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come"  to  approach,  and 
openly  present  themselves  before  the  Lord,  in 
order  that  the  people  of  God  might  unite  with 
them  in  prayer  for  their  deliverance. 

"  Come,  friends,  come !"  said  one  of  the 
preachers,  rubbing  his  hands  in  a  business-like 
way,  "  come  to  the  Lord  ;  he  is  waiting  to  be 
gracious — yes,  poor  sinner,  he  is  waiting  for 
you!  We  shall  now  sing  a  few  verses,  and, 
as  we  do  so,  let  every  one  who  thirsts  draw 
nigh." 

When  he  was  speaking,  a  great  many  did 
go  forward  and  kneel  at  the  railing  ;  four  out 
of  every  six  of  the  "  penitents  "  were  women,  a 
majority  of  whom  were  young  ;  there  were 
also  several  young  men.  Others  remained  in 
their  pews,  as  if  to  await  a  more  direct  and 
pressing  invitation  from  the  preachers,  who 
were  sure  to  move  about  among  the  congre 
gation,  and  urge  repentance  upon  such  as 
might  be  found  to  be  most  easily  entreated. 

The  old  Wesleyan  hymn, 

"  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy, 
Weak  and  wounded,  sick  and  sore," 

was  now  sung  out  briskly  by  preachers, 
penitents,  and  by  all  around  the  "  anxious- 
seats  ;"  the  choir  in  the  gallery  took  no  part. 
After  a  couple  of  verses  were  finished,  prayer 
again  followed  ;  one,  very  loud  and  special,  was 
offered  up  in  behalf  of  those  "  under  convic 
tion  :"  sighs,  and  groans,  and  mutterings 
could  be  heard  in  every  direction  ;  and  from 
those  who  came  to  mock,  an  occasional  titter 
would  follow  the  uncouth  or  extravagant  mani 
festation  of  feeling  by  some  more  impressible 
penitent  than  ordinary.  Presently,  every  one 
who  could  pray  began  ;  the  grave,  the  lively, 
the  fearful,  the  terrified,  the  hopeful  and  the  ex 
ulting,  all  were  heard  addressing  the  "  throne 
of  grace  "  together,  in  the  most  irregular  and 
disorderly  manner ;  and  high  above  all,  in  al 
to,  resounded  the  prayer  of  one  local  preacher, 
whose  powerful  voice  and  still  more  powerful 
lungs  were  equal  to  such  an  emergency. 

Near  one  poor  sinner,  who  was  shouting 
wildly  for  mercy,  there  sat  another  on  the 
floor  in  the  lowest  state  of  despondency  ;  and 
then  a  pious  brother  or  sister  would  stoop 
down  and  whisper,  "  Pray  on,  sister,  pray  on. 
God  is  willing  to  be  gracious  ;  do  not  give  up." 
And  very  often  this  peculiar  process  of  conver 
sion  would  force  a  shout  for  mercy,  or  a  shriek 
of  despair  from  many  who  almost  thought 
themselves  forever  lost.  Meantime,  during 
the  holy  uproar,  one  or  two  preachers  and 
a  few  of  the  converted  and  experienced  mem 
bers  of  the  church  went  slowly  about  firm 
pew  to  pew,  now  pleading  with  one,  now 
entreating  another,  "  to  turn  to  the  Lord  ;" 
now  making  a  fraternal  inquiry  as  to  the 
•tate  of  a  sister's  soul,  or  whispering  a  word 


of  encouragement  to  a  brother  struggling 
under  his  heavy  burden  of  sin.  Mrs.  Baker  and 
other  matured  female  members  were  also 
engaged  in  the  same  way — tendering  pious 
consolation. 

At  intervals,  as  some  penitent  professed  to 
have  found  "  peace,"  exclamations  would  fol 
low  from  many — "  Praise  the  Lord  !"  "  Bless 
the  Lord!"  "  Glory,  glory  !"  "Hallelujah!" 
"  Amen  !"  and  others,  under  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  would  cry  out  and  clap  hands  as 
if  to  signal  the  triumph.  'Then  all  would 
rise  and  sing  again. 

Mr.  Baker,  having  passed  from  one  to  another 
in  the  mean  time,  now  addressed  a  plain 
working-man,  who  appeared  to  be  looking 
on  with  the  greatest  indifference  ;  he  stood, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  leaning  leisurely 
against  one  of  the  pillars  supporting  the 
gallery,  quite  unmoved  by  the  excitement ; 
evidently  one  of  the  many  who  regard  this 
peculiar  method  cf  spiritual  renovation  as  a 
delusion. 

"  Brother,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  gently  laying 
his  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder,  "  how  is  the 
Lord  dealing  with  your  soul  1  do  you  feel  that 
you  have  no  interest  in —  " 

"  See  here,"  cried  the  man  abruptly,  "  I  want 
none  of  jjour  gammon — no,  1  don't.  Go  on 
and  make  fools  and  idiots  of  them  before  you  ; 
they  are  fools,  but  the  knaves  that  make  them 
what  they  are  should  suffer — ay,  they  should." 

Mr.  Baker  started  back  as  if  stung  by  a 
scorpion  ;  he  looked  sharply  at  the  man's  face 
in  the  dim  light ;  it  was  a  lace  not  altogether 
strange ;  he  began  to  feel  angry,  and  for  a 
moment  scrutinized  every  feature. 

"  Yes,  look  at  me,"  said  the  man,  with  the 
same  imperturbable  coolness  ;  "  if  you  don't 
know  me,  I  know  you — yes,  I  do  ;  and  you'd 
know  me  better  if  I  could  put  such  chaps  as  you 
in  the  common  Bridewell  for  what  you've  been 
doing  ;  you  would  know  me  then,  you  would." 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  and  speak  1o  me 
this  way  in  the  house  of  the  Lord '("  said  Mr. 
Baker,  getting  very  much  irritated. 

"  House  of  the  Lord  !  house  of  the  dev — !" 

"  Wretch  !"  cried  Mr.  Baker,  without  giving 
the  man  time  to  finish  the  last  syllable  of  a 
profane  word.  '•  Did  you  come  here  to  pollute 
the  sanctuary,  and  interrupt  divinq  service? 
I  shall  have  you  arrested." 

"To  pollute  the  sanctuary,"  said  the  man, 
repeating  the  words  scornfully ;  "  better  call 
it  a  mad-house — that's  what  it  is.  Do  you  call 
that  divine  service?"  said  he,  pointing  to  the> 
fearful  religious  confusion  before  him.  "  Do 
you  call  them  poor  creatures  as  ones  havin' 
their  common  senses  ?  and  do  you  call  that, 
poor  raving  lady  yonder — as  is  walking  up  and 
down  afore  ye  all— do  you  call  her  converted  ?" 

"  Ah !"  said  Mr.  Baker,  "  I  know  who  you 
are  now.  Did  you  come  here  to  scoff,  at  your 
master's  bidding '/" 

"  I  came,  but  it  was  not  to  listen  to  your 
stuff ;  I  came,  at  his  bidding,  to  see  after  that 
poor  lady ;  y<  u  ought  to  be  proud  of  your 
work — you  ought.  But  the  law  is  on  your 
side  ;  only  for  that,  yee — only  for  that.  Well, 
if  you  were  a  man  as  had  human  nature  in  you, 
youV  have  her  away  from  here  long  ago  ;  but 
you'r.-  not,"  said  Robert,  now  getting  excited, 


EXETER  HALL. 


125 


"  you're  like  the  rest  of  your  tribe  ;  there's 
nothing  good  only  what  you  have.  You 
should  he  made  to  pay  for  your  deviltry — you 
should." 

Robert  never  flinched  an  inch  as  he  gave 
his  opinion  so  freely.  His  resolute  manner 
somewhat  cowed  Mr.  Baker,  who  now,  as  if 
struck  by  what  had  been  sakl,  or  by  some 
fancied  eccentricity  in  Mrs.  Mannors — upon 
whom  he  had  steadfastly  looked  since  Robert 
had  pointed  toward  her — went  quickly  away 
without  making  any  reply,  and  whispered  to 
his  wife,  who  was  still  busy  among  the  peni 
tents. 

"Ay,  you  may  go  now,"  said  Robert,  in  a 
kind  of  growling  under-tone,  as  the  preacher 
walked  u;>  hurriedly  between  the  pews.  "You 
may  go,  but  you're  too  late.  Your  prayers 
will  never  more  do  her  any  good — never. 
She's  not  the  first  that's  been  here  to  save  her 
soul  and  lose  her  reason — not  the  first." 

At  this  time,  and  since  the  close  of  the  ser 
mon,  Mrs.  Mannors  had  been  walking  alone, 
Backward  and  forward,  in  a  passage  behind 
the  pulpit  leading  to  a  "  class-room  "  or  kind 
of  vestry.  Her  bonnet  was  off,  and  her  un 
bound  hair  fell  upon  her  shoulders.  She 
would  occasionally  stop  and  look  at  the  con 
fused  scene  before  her  with  a  frightened  or 
bewildered  ga/.e ;  or  pause  to  listen  for  a 
moment  to  the  tumult  of  dismal  sounds,  and 
then  suddenly  dart  back,  as  if  terrified  at 
something  she  had  heard.  Her  lips  moved 
continually,  and  at  times  she  would  heave  a 
deep  sigh,  and  in  a  low  melancholy  voice 
would  utter,  "  I  am  lost,  I  am  lost ;  O  God ! 
save  me." 

It  was  noticed  that  the  first  few  evenings 
of  her  attendance  at  the  revival  she  went 
amongst  the  penitents  and  prayed  with  them, 
as  did  Mrs.  Baker  and  other  members  of  her 
"  class  ;"  she  was  rather  more  demonstrative 
than  usual  ;  then  all  at  once  became  demure 
and  reserved,  and  for  the  past  night  or  two 
kept  mostly  by  herself,  doing  nothing  very 
particular  to  attract  attention  ;  indeed,  if  she 
had,  the  revival  excitement  being  at  its 
height  would  prevent  even  a  very  extrava 
gant  act  from  being  observed ;  for  where 
nearly  all  seemed  for  the  time  to  abandon 
ordinary  decorum,  one  perhaps  more  singular 
ly  afflicted  than  Mrs.  Mannors  might  not  be 
suspected. 

Mrs.  Baker,  followed  by  her  husband,  went 
toward  the  passage  where  Mrs.  Mannors  was 
walking.  They  stopped  at  a  little  distance 
to  watch  her  movements,  and  see  whether 
they  could  be  justified  in  assuming  that  her 
mind  was  impaired.  The  scrutiny  must  have 
satisfied  them ;  a  look  of  deep  meaning 
passed  from  one  to  the  other,  and  though 
they  stood  closer  to  her  than  at  first,  she  paced 
on  moodily  as  before,  without  raising  her  eyes 
from  the  floor  or  changing  the  sad  expression 
of  her  faca.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  this  wreck  ; 
and  the  preacher,  anxious  to  attract  her  atten 
tion  and  speak  to  her,  now  stood  right  in  her 
way — the  passage  itself  was  rather  gloomy — 
and  when  she  suddenly  came  upon  his  dark 
figure,  she  started  back  in  alarm,  raised  her 
hands,  gave  a  wild  cry,  and  fell  trembling  on 
the  floor. 


Mrs.  Baker  and  one  or  two  sisters  raised  the 
demented  woman,  and  led  her  into  the  room 
back  of  the  church.  The  cry,  though  pierc 
ing,  did  not  seem  to  disconcert  the  revivalists 
for  any  time— it  was  taken  to  be  one  of  the 
ordinary  elfectsof  that  spiritual  despair  which 
is  said  to  precede  the  assurance  of  heavenly 
reconciliation  ;  and  wh  le  fruitless  efforts  and 
prayers  were  made  in  the  vestry  to  win  back 
reason,  and  dispel  the  frightful  apparitions  of 
a  frenzied  brain,  every  means  was  used  in  the 
church  to  bring  others  to  the  dangerous  verge 
of  despondency  ;  and  the  continued  sighs,  and 
groans,  and  shouts  of  alarmed  sinners  in  the 
sanctuary, given  to  appease  an  "angry God," 
could  now  be  heard  in  that  closed  room,  like 
the  wailing  of  a  distant  tempest,  the  rush  of 
waves,  and  the  doleful  death-cry  of  struggling, 
drowning  men. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

IT  was  late  that  night  before  Mrs.  Mannora 
could  be  induced  to  leave  the  class-room.  She 
had  stealthily  made  her  escape  from  her  own 
house  in  the  evening,  and  dreaded  to  return 
to  her  home.  It  was,  she  said,  the  "  city  of 
destruction,"  and  she  fancied  she  had  com 
mitted  the  unpardonable  sin  by  remaining 
there  so  long.  She  never  spoke  of  her  chil 
dren,  and  was  silent  when  their  names  were 
mentioned.  She  seemed  to  think  that  Hannah 
and  her  husband  were  but  specious  fiends, 
endeavoring  to  lure  her  on  to  perdition  :  her 
insanity  was  undoubted,  and  she  could  no 
longer  be  allowed  to  go  about  unattended 
particularly  as  William  yet  continued  in  a 
very  critical  state.  Mrs.  Baker  and  another 
pious  friend,  however,  remained  with  her 
until  the  next  day,  and,  as  she  grew  no  better, 
it  was  deemed  advisable  to  have  her  removed 
for  a  time  ;  and  Mr.  Mannors  consented  that 
she  should  be  taken  to  Mrs.  Baker's  residence  ; 
he  felt  satisfied  that  she  would  receive  every 
attention,  and  that,  in  the  mean  time,  it  would 
be  a  friendly  asylum. 

Mr.  Capel  returned  the  day  afterward,  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all  in  Hampstead  Cot 
tage  :  he  was  astonished  at  the  suddenness 
of  the  calamity  that  had  fallen  upon  his 
friend,  and  no  one  could  be  more  assiduous 
in  endeavoring  to  mitigate  the  severe  trials  to 
which  he  was  subjected.  Mary,  from  watch 
ing  day  and  night  at  the  bedside  of  her 
brother,  was  sadly  changed  ;  and  poor  Han 
nah's  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  as  well  for 
the  woe  which  had  fallen  upon  her  mistress 
as  on  account  of  the  disease  which  she  believed 
was  slowly  but  surely  wearing  out  the  young 
life  of  one  to  whom  she  was  so  much  attached. 

How  lonely  the  whole  place  appeared ; 
there  was  but  little  difference  between  noon 
and  midnight.  Ominous  looking  clouds  came 
along,  and  streamed  down  upon  the  house  as 
they  passed  away ;  and  the  trees  around 
siglied  audibly  as  if  an  October  wind — a  pre 
mature  blast — were  about  to  rob  them  of  their 
foliage.  The  long  hours  of  the  day  as  well  as 
of  the  night  sped  slowly  by,  as  if  they  were 
willing  to  slacken  pace  and  add  a  few  mo 
ments  longer  to  the  lingering,  limited  exist- 


126 


EXETER    HALL. 


ence  of  the  young  sufferer.  Alas !  thought 
Mr.  Capel,  as  he  sat  alone  in  the  once  pleasant 
parlor,  what  a  shadow  is  human  life — how 
evanescent !  It  is  but  as  yesterday  since  one, 
apparently  happy  and  sound  in  mind,  wel 
comed  me  like  a  mother  to  this  place,  loldme 
of  her  dreams,  and  visions,  and  hopes,  and  of 
the  bright  future  in  the  distance ;  now  that 
mind  is  a  blank,  every  pleasant  and  maternal 
recollection  is  blotted  out,  and  she  may  go 
down  to  the  grave  without  any  dawning  of 
reason.  It  seems  but  an  hour  since  the  gentle 
laugh  of  him  who  was  her  pride — but  now  in 
the  clutches  of  death — was  heard  like  music 
among  the  flowers,  a  laugh  that  came  so 
oft  with  the  sunlight,  but  which  may  never 
be  heard  again. 

What  a  cloud,  dark  and  unpropitious,  settled 
already  over  this  once  happy  home !  misfor 
tunes  had  come  there  together ;  and  even  now 
many  of  the  pious  were  free  to  remark  that  it 
was  a  judgment — "just  what  might  have  been 
expected  from  unbelief!"  But  then  it  was 
one  more  calamitous  to  the  believing  wife 
than  to  the  unbelieving  husband ;  if  the  trial 
was  sore  to  him,  his  reason  was  not  withered, 
he  was  not  doomed  to  be  the  living  sepulchre 
for  a  "  dead  soul."  O  orthodoxy  !  how  un 
charitable  are  thy  impulses ! 

The  patience  and  manly  fortitude  of  Mr. 
Manners  surprised  Mr.  Capel.  He  could  see 
that  his  friend  was  cut  to  the  quick,  yet  bore 
all  most  heroically.  Now  tenderly  moistening 
the  parched  lip,  or  cooling  the  fevered  brow 
of  his  prostrate  child ;  now  whispering  hope 
and  encouragement  to  his  daughter,  even 
when  hope  could  scarcely  find  a  resting-place 
in  his  own  heart ;  and  then  trying  to  cheer  up 
Hannah,  whose  generous  nature  was  almost 
overcome.  Her  mental  resources  were  insuf 
ficient  under  the  stroke ;  the  oft  luminous 
pages  of  Bunyan  were  now  dark  and  depress 
ing.  Mr.  Manners  went  about  quietly,  doing 
every  thing  in  his  power  to  heal  the  wounds 
of  others,  when  it  was  but  too  apparent  that 
the  dart  had  entered  deeply  into  his  own 
bosom  ;  and,  though  forced  to  taste  of  the  bit 
ter  cup  that  fate  had  presented,  yet,  with  great 
consideration  for  the  feelings  of  Hannah,  and 
of  some  religious  friends  who  called  from  time 
to  time,  he  never  alluded  to  the  particular 
cause  of  his  wife's  affliction,  and  never  uttered 
a  reproachful  word. 

Mr.  Capel,  however,  was  satisfied  that  that 
affliction  did  not  arise  from  any  latent  disor 
der  of  the  mind,  or  from  any  inherited  tenden 
cy  to  aberration  ;  it  was  the  effect  of  unnatu 
ral  religious  excitement  upon  a  too  sensitive 
organization,  inducing  a  faith  in  dreams  and 
visions,  and  gradually  producing  some  pleas 
ing  hallucination  that  lingered  and  was  nour 
ished,  and  became  a  reality,  and  which  then 
shaped  itself  into  a  monster,  a  usurper,  which 
overpowered  reason  and  reigned  supreme 
in  mental  devastation.  It  has  been  the 
fate  of  ten  thousand  others.  Alas!  what 
intellects  have  been  crushed  and  ruined 
beneath  the  gilded  car  of  a  pompous  and 
imperious  superstition.  How  many  enthu 
siasts  have  been  broken  under  the  ponde 
rous  wheel  of  the  Christian  Juggernaut ;  and 
the  useless  and  maddening  pageant  still 


moves  on,  amid  the  groans  of  victims  and  the 
hosannahs  of  priests. 

The  unwearied  Hannah  still  watched  by 
the  side  of  William  ;  his  sister,  who  was  much 
fatigued,  tried  to  snatch  a  little  rest  in  dozing 
upon  a  sofa  near  by,  and  he  had  lain  compara 
tively  quiet  for  some  minutes  listening  to  the 
heavy  rain  which  now  pattered  against  the 
window-panes. 

"  Hannah,"  said  he,  in  a  very  faint  voice, 
"  why  doesn't  ma  come  here  ?  I  want  her  now 
to  tell  me  of  the  bright  angels  she  used  to 
dream  so  often  about,  I  want  her  now  to  let 
me  see  them  ;  she  often  told  me  how  beauti 
ful  they  were,  and  that  I  should  know  them, 
and  they  know  me  ;  I  wish  I  could  see  them 
to-day — yes,  to-day." 

Hannah  leant  over  his  pillow  to  catch  every 
word;  she  was  painfully  strut k  with  the 
change  in  his  manner  and  appearance,  and  her 
heart  beat  quickly  with  foreboding  pulsations. 

"  Your  ma  is  tired,  darling,  and  is  resting, 
like  Miss  Mary.  She  will  soon  be  here,  I 
hope  ;  but  she  is  tired  now,  very  tired."  * 

"  Poor  ma ! — tired  and  asleep.  I  am  tired 
too — very  tired  and  weary — and  must  soon 
sleep.  1  would  like  to  have  her  come  soon 
and  kiss  me,  and  tell  me  about  the  angels 
again  ;  for  I  am  tired,  and  may  sleep  a  long, 
long  time." 

She  listened  to  his  failing  voice,  and  made 
no  reply  ;  she  could  not  then  speak,  but  one  of 
her  big  tears  fell  upon  his  pale  cheek. 

By  an  effort,  he  raised  his  little  thin  hand, 
and  let  it  rest  upon  her  dark  hair  ;  he  looked 
at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "  Poor, 
poor  Hannah!" 

"  O  my  darling  child !  0  my  darling 
child !  I've  prayed  for  you,  but  now  I  wish 
my  heart  would  break,"  she  sobbed  in  a  low 
voice.  These  were  the  only  words  to  which 
she  could  give  utterance,  as  the  tears  coursed 
down  her  cheeks  ;  and  she  pressed  the  small 
hand  to  her  lips  as  if  she  never  intended  to 
let  it  go  again. 

He  looked  intently  at  her  for  some  time  in  si- 
^nce,  a  look  such  as  one  of  her  blest  ideala 
might  have  given  to  sorrowing  humanity, 
and  she  in  turn  tried  to  restrain  her  tears  and 
seem  cheerful. 

"  Why  do  you  cry,  poor  Hannah  ? — don't  cry 
for  me !  you  know  we  must  all  sleep.  Ma 
often  told  us  that  we  should  all  sleep,  and 
awake  again  at  the  resurrection — what  is  the 
resurrection  ?" 

'  The  resurrection,  dear,"  said  she,  after  some 
hesitation,  "  is  when  we  get  up  to  go  to 
heaven,  after  we  die." 

"  Up  from  where — from  sleep  ?" 

'•  Up  from  our  graves !  we  shall  all  get  up 
at  the  last  day." 

'  From  our  graves — from  our  graves,"  he 
repeated  the  words  slowly,  and  then  pondered 
over  their  solemn  meaning. 

'  Will  every  body  get  up  to  go  to  hea* 
ven  ?" 

'  I  hope  so,  dear,"  said  she,  trying  to  evade 
a  direct  answer  ;  "  Oh  !  how  I  wish  it  was  to 
morrow  !  all  to  be  together  again." 

He  remained  for  a  time  in  deep  thought, 
during  which  he  watched  the  wearied  face  oi 
her  who  was  now  to  him  a*  a  mother,  and 


EXETER    HALL. 


127 


then  said  to  her  in  a  whisper,  "Toll  ma  to 
come  soon — very  soon,  I  shall  sleep  to-night  ; 
but  I  must  sleep  again  to-morrow,  yes,  to-mor 
row.  Hannah,  stay  near  me  until  then,  and 
I  will  como  back  at  the  resurrection." 

There  was  a  deep  silence  after  this  pro-, 
phetic  warning,  and  Hannah  had  to  leave  the 
room  to  stifle  the  terrible  grief  which  tried  to 
find  utterance. 

She  soon  heard  his  feeble  voice  again,  and 
when  she  bent  down  low  to  catch  his  words, 
he  whispered  : 

"  Won't  you  bring  me  Flounce  ?  I  must  see 
poor  Flounce  to-day.  Do,  do  let  me  see  him 
again." 

Presently  the  affectionate  animal  followed 
Hannah  into  the  darkened  room  :  his  head 
hung  down,  as  if  he  anticipated  a  last  leave- 
taking.  A  chair  was  drawn  close  to  the  bed  ; 
he  sat  upon  it,  and,  suppressing  every  joyful 
demonstration,  looked  mournfully  into  the 
large  eyes  of  his  young  master,  gently  licking 
the  hand  that  was  now  slowly  extended  to 
ward  him.  The  dog's  subdued  manner 
touched  the  tender  feelings  of  the  boy  ;  he 
would  have  wept,  but  the  fountain  of  his  tears 
was  forever  sealed. 

Flounce  left  the  room  with  reluctance, 
and  after  his  removal  he  lay  the  remainder  of 
the  day  outside  in  the  wet  grass,  under  the 
rain  in  the  lonely  garden,  looking  up  at  the 
curtained  window  of  William's  room  and 
whining  piteously. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  next  day  ;  the  sun 
was  setting  in  glorious  effulgence.  A  great 
white  cloud,  like  a  mountain  of  light,  was 
moving  slowly  onward  toward  the  east ;  the 
red  and  golden  beams  which  now  rested  upon 
it  made  it  appear  as  if  it  were  the  throne  of  a 
divinity  ;  and  to  the  imagination  it  might  have 
been  made  the  foundation  for  any  sublime 
aerial  structure.  The  robin's  lone  farewell- 
notes  were  heard  in  the  garden  ;  but  all  else 
was  still,  not  more  still,  however,  than  the 
living  and  dying  who  looked  through  the 
open  window  upon  the  beautiful  mellow  light 
of  eve  slowly  fading  away  in  the  western 
sky. 

At  William's  request,  his  bed  was  moved 
so  that  he  could  look  out  through  the  win 
dow  and  take  Ids  last  view  of  earth  ;  and  as 
his  wan  face  was  turned  toward  the  sunset,  the 
rays  that  fell  around  it  only  served  to  show 
more  plainly  the  death-shadows  that  were  al 
ready  creeping  in  and  resting  upon  his  fea 
tures  —  shadows  that  no  morning  light  would 
ever  more  dispel.  Hannah  looked  awe 
struck  ;  it  seemed  then  to  her  as  if  the  very 
portals  of  heaven  were  opened  to  receive  the 
pure  spirit  of  a  departing  pilgrim.  But  Mary, 
pale  and  worn,  could  not  turn  her  head  away 
from  her  brother  ;  now  burying  her  face  in 
his  pillow,  now  pressing  her  lips  upon  his  cold 
brehead  that  was  already  damp  with  the  dew 
of  death ;  she  saw  the  nickering  of  the  little 
lamp,  and  would  watch  until  it  was  blown  out 
forever. 

Mr.  Capel  and  Mr.  Mannors  stood  silently 
by  ;  to  one  it  was  an  hour  of  the  darkest  trial^ 
and  the  heavy  bursting  sighs  of  that  father's 
breast  could  alone  truly  tell  how  the  deep 
fountain  of  his  affection  was  overflowing  ;  and 


Mr.  Capel's  eyes  were  suffused,  as  if  he  were 
waiting  by  the  side  of  a  dying  In-other  ;  it  was 
a  death-scene  which  should  never  leave  his 
memory. 

"  Pop,"  said  the  dying  boy,  raising  his  fee 
ble  voice,  and  looking  eagerly  upward  at  the 
magnificent  sun-lit  cloud.  "  Pop,  that  is  the 
summer-land,  and  ma  is  there  ;  oh  !  I  see  her 
among  such  a  crowd  of  angels !  She  is  now 
beckoning  to  me  —  see,  Hunnah,  ma  is  wait 
ing  !  how  beautifvil  she  looks !  but  I'm  getting 
very  cold  ;  won't  you  sing  again  for  me,  Han 
nah  ?  I  am  sleepy — I  must  soon  sleep — sing  for 
me  now." 

Poor  Hannah  struggled  to  comply  with  his 
last  request  to  her,  and,  while  all  were  silent 
ly  weeping,  she  sung  in  a  low,  broken  voice 
a  verse  from  one  of  his  mother's  favorite 
hymns — 


When  she  had  sung  thus  far,  he  made  an 
attempt  to  raise  himself  from  the  pillow,  but 
his  head  fell  back  powerless  ;  it  was  a  last  ef 
fort  of  his  tender  nature  to  offer  all  an  em 
brace  ;  he  could  but  just  whisper,  "  Kiss  me, 
pa  ;  kiss  me,  Hannah  ;  kiss  me,  Pop  ;  I  am  get 
ting  very  tired,  and  must  now  sleep ;  but  I 
will  come  back  again  with  ma  at  the  resurrec 
tion — good  night  1" 

The  evening  sun  j  cist  then  disappeared  ;  the 
great  cloud  stood  alone  in  the  ruddy  sky,  and 
William  closed  his  eyes  in  that  last  sleep,  and 
went  off  to  the  real  or  fancied  summerland. 

Days,  dreary  days,  had  passed  since  the  fresh 
mound  was  raised  in  Hampstead  churchyard, 
and  fresh  flowers  had  been  almost  daily  scat 
tered  upon  the  little  grave  by  a  sister's  hand. 
In  the  quiet  evenings,  when  Hannah  felt  lone 
ly,  she  would  go  and  sit  by  the  head-stone  in 
the  cemetery  and  watch  the  western  sky,  as  if 
expecting  some  recognition  from  him  who 
had  departed ;  but  no  signal  appeared  ;  no  token 
ever  came  ;  no  voice  from  across  the  lone  sea 
ever  reached  her  ear  ;  no  secret  was  revealed  ; 
but  the  future  to  her,  as  well  as  to  many 
others  still  kept  its  own  solemn  mystery. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

ONE  month  after  the  sad  scene  witnessed 
by  Mr.  Capel  in  the  house  of  his  afflicted 
friend,  he  received  a  peremptory  note  from 
the  Rev.  James  Baker,  requesting  his  attend 
ance  at  the  quarterly  meeting,  to  commence 
on  the  following  Saturday  in  the  Hampstead 
Methodist  church.  It  had  been  mooted  about 
for  some  time  that  Mr.  Capel  was  strangely 
indifferent  and  lukewarm  in  liia  religious 
duties  ;  that  his  ministrations  were  irregular  , 
and  that  his  manner  indicated  he  had  no  heart 
in  the  "  work."  Some  said  that  he  was  but  a 
mere  formalist ;  others  that  he  was  foppish  ; 
others  that  he  was  popish  ;  and  many  asserted 
that  he  was  assuming  clerical  airs  more  like  a 
high-churchman  than  comporting  himself  as 
an  humble  preacher  of  the  Uospel ;  and  know- 


128 


EXETER    HALL. 


ing  ones  were  of  opinion  tliat  lie  was  prepar 
ing  to  follow  other  high-minded  preachers, 
and  desert  the  "  old  Wesleyan  ship."  to  ob 
tain  a  curacy  in  the  state  church,  and  swell 
out  as  a  Church  of  England  minister.  There 
were  a  few,  however,  who  had  mis-givinge  as 
to  the  true  cause  of  his  apathy  ;  and  confi 
dential  whispers  to  this  etiect  were  poured 
into  the  ear  of  the  Rev.  James  Baker,  super 
intendent  of  the  circuit. 

So  far,  indeed,  from  being  vainglorious,  Mr. 
Capel  had  made  many  friends  on  the  circuit 
by  his  unassuming  disposition,  and  several 
here  and  there  stood  up  in  his  defense.  The 
young  lady  members  in  particular  were 
generally  of  opinion  that  no  such  servant  of 
f.iod  had  ever  be  I  ore  appeared  among  them  ; 
and  one  sanctified  spinster,  of  over  thirty-five 
summers,  said  she  would  be  willing  to  fight 
her  way  in  his  behalf  through  a  whole  con 
ference  of  preachers,  even  were  they  as  stony 
hearted  as  the  stern  senior  preacher  of  Hamp- 
etead.  The  ladies  generally  flocked  in  large 
numbers  to  hear  the  calm  gospel  expositions 
of  Mr.  Capel,  and  the  female  membership  of 
the  church  greatly  increased  under  his 
"  word."  Although  he  avoided  every  exciting 
theme,  there  were  as  many  female  "  conver 
sions  "  as  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  Boanerges 
class  ;  and  he  had  consequently  "  seals  to  his 
ministry "  which  might  not  have  followed 
from  the  preaching  even  of  a  much  older 
man— one  who  was  more  matured  in  "divine 
things" — such  as  the  superintendent  himself. 

Whether  the  Rev.  Mr.  Baker  grew  a  little 
jealous  of  his  younger  brother  on  this  parti 
cular  account  can,  not  be  fairly  asserted.  He 
might  have  had  good  methodistic  reasons  for 
the  course  he  was  about  to  pursue.  Mr. 
Capel  kept  aloof,  and  had  not  called  at  the 
parsonage  for  nearly  a  month  ;  and  when  he 
did  call,  hurried  away,  giving  no  satisfactory 
statement  of  the  affaire  on  the  circuit.  It 
was  well  known  among  the  brethren  that  he 
never  encouraged  revival  meetings ;  and  when 
those  anxious  for  a  "special  outpouring" 
made  efforts  to  awaken  slumbering  sinners, 
he  always  managed  to  be  absent,  and  often 
hinted  that  he  would  prefer  to  have  every 
thing  done  "  decently  and  in  order."  But  it 
was  not  until  after  the  sad  derangement  of 
Mrs.  Mannors  that  he  spoke  out  plainly. 
Sympathizing  with  her  family,  he  felt  indig 
nant  that  such  a  sad  result — one  of  many — 
should  follow  from  the  persistency  of  Method 
ism  in  religious  excitements,  and  he  had  the 
temerity  to  state  that  revivals  were  but  nur 
series  for  lusiacy.  Besides  this,  it  was  well 
known  that  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Mannors  as  a  per 
son  whose  example,  in  several  respects,  might 
be.  followed  advantageously  by  many  gospel 
ministers,  and  he  was  ever  ready  to  defend 
his  character  from  the  unscrupulous  attacks 
so  commonly  made  by  the  pious  or  orthodox 
against  unbelievers;  and  certain  expressions 
made  from  time  to  time  conveying  his  doubt 
of  eternal  punishment  alarmed  not  a  few  of 
the  more  zealous,  whose  Methodistic  instincts 
led  them  to  reverence  the  Bible,  as  much  for 
its  consignment  of  the  wicked  to  eternal  tor 
ments  as  for  its  perpetuity  of  glorious  re- 
•wurdc>  to  tin:  faithful. 


Mr.  Capel  had  made  preparations  to  leave 
Hampstead  Cottage  after  the  death  of  Wil 
liam  ;  he  had  several  reasons  for  so  doing. 
He  had  been  solicited  by  Mrs.  Mannors  to 
reside  in  her  family,  in  order  to  accomplish  a 
purpose  which  now  could  never  be  reached ; 
his  own  religioxis  views  had  undergone  a  com 
plete  change  ;  his  mission  was  therefore  use 
less  ;  and  he  felt  that  if  it  was  proper  to 
change  his  place  of  residence,  it  was  much 
more  so  his  duty  to  break  oft'  all  connections 
with  a  society  whose  teachings  he  had  ceased 
to  believe.  Yet,  dreading  the  obloquy  which 
was  almost  certain  to  follow  a  formal  recanta 
tion,  he  was  desirous  of  withdrawing  gradual 
ly  from  Methodist  membership,  and  he  trust- 
e'd  that  some  opportunity  would  be  afforded  to 
make  his  exit  unnoticed.  He  could  not  con 
sistently  teach  a  doctrine  which  he  did  not 
believe  ;  for  over  a  mouth  he  had  neither  been 
seen  nor  heard  at  any  religious  service — it 
was  public  talk — and  the  anomalous  position 
he  occupied  made  him  very  unhappy,  and 
rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  do  something 
to  release  himself  from  a  bondage  which  was 
so  irksome. 

He  often  met  his  friend,  Father  Tom  Mc- 
Glinn,  often  traveled  with  him  whole  days, 
had  had  long  and  interesting  conversations 
on  the  subject  of  religion  ;  and  he  found  that 
his  friend  in  Romish  orders— a  veritable  priest 
of  the  "  Mother  Church  " — was  just  "  as  much 
in  the  mud  as  he  was  in  the  mire  ;"  that  both 
were  sliding — or  rather  had  slidden — from 
doubt  to  unbelief;  both  reputed  ministers  of 
the  Gospel,  though  of  widely  different  and 
hostile  sects,  were  each  anxious  to  be  free 
from  the  fetters  of  a  religion  which  investiga 
tion  had  shown  to  be  the  more  modern  form 
of  an  ancient  superstition ;  and  both  alike 
dreading  the  outcry  which  would  be  made 
upon  their  open  defection,  were  consequently 
more  and  more  in  sympathy. 

Father  McGlinn,  after  all,  thought  it  best, 
that  his  friend  should  answer  the  summons, 
and  appear  in  person  at  the  quarterly  meet 
ing  ;  and  Mr.  Mannors,  who  would  not  hoar 
of  Mr.  Capel's  change  of  residence,  also  advised 
him  to  go  boldly  and  hear  every  accusation, 
There  might  be  invidious  charges,  which 
it  would  be  necessary  to  disprove.  The  ortho 
dox  seldom  believe  that  religious  doubts  or 
openly  avowed  skepticism  can  arise  from  any 
pure  motive— any  abstract  love  of  truth ;  or 
that  any  man  can  desire  to  be  raided  above  e 
class  of  servile  worshipers  of  any  myth  or 
creed  but  from  a  desire  for  sensual  indul 
gence,  an  eagerness  to  be  rid  of  the  whole 
some  restraints  of  religion.  Mr.  Mannors 
therefore  strongly  urged  that  Mr.  Baker 
should  be  met  on  his  own  ground  ;  and  that 
while  Mr.  Capel  made  such  acknowledgments 
respecting  religion  as  he  thought  proper,  ho 
should  demand  proof,  or  rebut  charges  against 
his  character,  upon  which  solely  they  might, 
and  no  doubt  would  try,  to  base  a  motion  for 
his  expulsion. 

The  Rev.  James  Baker,  in  the  mean  time, 
was  very  industriously  circulating  his  opinion 
of  Mr.  Capel  throughout  various  parts  of  the 
circuit.  He  well  knew  where  he  could  dis 
cover  pliant  aids  for  uis  purpose,  and  he 


EXETER    HALL. 


129 


found  them.  He  was  exceedingly  bitter  in 
his  denunciation  of  ministerial  unfaithfulness, 
and  ho  succeeded  in  depicting  the  conduct  of 
the  junior  preacher  as  deserving  the  impeach 
ment  of  the  "  church  of  God."  lie  insisted 
that,  the  "  servants  of  the  Lord  "  were  bound 
to  make  the  punishment  of  such  "TOSS  perfidy 
a  terror  to  evil-doers;  and  for  days,  while 
some  of  the  young  ladies  dared  to  sympathize, 
the  select  "  people  of  the  Lord  "  were  preparing 
to  give  an  exhibition  of  Christian  forbearance 
and  magnanimity. 

The  dreaded  Saturday  came.  The  church 
was  filled  ;  and  although  many  of  the  brethren 
iiad  to  leave  their  daily  toil,  they  did  leave  it, 
to  be  present  on  such  an  occasion  of  impor 
tance.  The  ladies  assembled  in  as  great 
numbers  as  if  there  were  to  be  a  special  revi 
val,  or  a  missionary  meeting,  or  a  public  rais 
ing  of  some  dead  Lazarus.  Local  preachers, 
church  stewards,  and  other  official  members 
were  well  represented  ;  and  besides  Mr.  Baker, 
there  were  three  other  preachers,  among 
whom  was  the  old  superannuated  itinerant, 
who  had  held  forth  in  such  a  lively  discourse 
at  the  late  protracted  meeting. 

Mr.  Baker,  as  superintendent  of  the  circuit, 
preached  a  doleful,  prosy  sermon,  in  which 
ministerial  backsliding  was  represented  as  one 
of  the  basest  crimes  against  the  church  ;  and 
he  simulated  great  regret  at  being  compelled, 
much  against  his  will,  but  as  a  matter  of 
duty,  to  bring  serious  charges  against  a  bro 
ther — an  erring  brother — for  whom  he  once 
had  such  a  strong  and  deep  affection.  He 
assured  his  brethren  that  this  duty  was  most 
painful  ;  but  the  cause  of  the  Lord  should  not 
be  influenced  by  our  human  feelings — the 
right  eye  should  be  plucked  out  or  the  right 
hand  cut  off,  should  dire  necessity  require 
the  sacrifice. 

Mr.  Capel  did  not  make  his  appearance  until 
after  these  preliminary  services  were  over. 
The  eyes  of  many  had  wandered  over  the 
church,  and  much  surprise  was  manifested 
when  he  could  not  be  seen.  Mr.  Baker  him 
self  felt  then  like  an  Abraham  without  an 
Isaac ;  the  altar  was  raise:!,  he  held  out  the 
shining  blade  ready  for  the  sacrifice ;  he 
wanted  to  make  an  atonement,  but  no  victim 
appeared.  He  began  to  feel  as  uncomfortable 
as  a  tiger  robbed  of  his  prey,  when  Mr.  Capel 
was  seen  walking  slowly  up  the  aisle,  the 
objector  prominent  interest  to  all  ;  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  somewhat  nervous  under 
the  concentrated  gaze  of  so  many  firm  be 
lievers. 

He  took  his  place  quietly,  however,  and 
scanned  the  complacent  faces  of  the  sanctified 
row  of  church  officials  ;  not  one  of  whom,  in 
this  trying  hour,  ventured  to  give  him  even  a 
nod  of  friendly  recognition.  There  was  a 
flutter  am:>ng  the  ladies,  and  one  \  articular 
spinster  applied  her  handkerchief  very  fre 
quently,  and  looked  quite  woe-bfgone. 

After  some  formalities,  there  was  a  great 
hush,  when  Mr.  Baker  stood  before  the  breth- 

Iren  as  an  accuser.  He  reiterated  that  it 
was  painful  to  him  as  a  minister  of  the  Gos 
pel,  and  it  was  with  much  reluctance  that  he 
was  obliged  to  call  their  attention  to  certain 
charges  which  he  felt  it  his  bounden  duty  to 


prefer  against  brother  Henry  Capel— he  would 
still  call  him  brother— the  junior  preacher  un 
der  his  superintendency.  Indeed,  one  might  im 
agine  that  at  this  particular  time  the  worthy 
man  had  found  difficulty  in  giving  utterance 
to  his  words ;  he  was  very  much  affected, 
very,  and  the  faces  of  the  official  brethren 
around  were  lengthened  into  the  gloomiest 
solemnity. 

Having  adjusted  his  spectacles,  he  opened  a 
paper,  and  read  out  the  charges. 

"  1st.  That  he,  Henry  Capel,  as  junior  prea 
cher,  has  been  negligent  in  his  duties  and 
irregular  in  his  appointments. 

"  3d.  That  he  has  sneered  at  and  reviled  the 
practice,  discipline,  and  teaching  of  our  church 
and  founder,  and  has  spoken  contemptuously 
of  our  holy  religion. 

"  3d.  That  his  private  acts  and  his  general 
conduct  and  morality  have  been  discreditable 
to  himself,  and  a  reproach  to  the  people  of 
God  " 

With  respect  to  the  first  charge,  Mr.  Baker 
said,  it  was  well  known  that  for  a  long  timo 
Mr.  Capel  had  not  kept  his  appointments. 
People  attended  at  the  regular  time  men 
tioned  on  the  "  plan,"  but  no  preacher  came  ; 
some  frivolous  excuse  having  been  given  for 
non-attendance.  Even  when  he  did  preach,  it 
was  but  a  mere  lecture  in  favor  of  a  cold,  for 
mal  morality  ;  not  a  stirring  appeal  to  induce 
sinners  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come. 

He  wras  then  about  to  furnish  evidence  in 
proof,  when  Mr.  Capel  said  that,  for  several 
reasons  which  he  need  not  mention,  his  ap 
pointments  were  not  regularly  kept ;  he  ad 
mitted  the  correctness  of  the  charge,  and 
regretted  that  he  had  caused  the  members  any 
inconvenience.  Any  address  or  "lecture" 
which  he  had  given  was  an  effort  to  improve 
his  hearers  morally  and  intellectually  ;  he  had 
thought  it  best  to  appeal  to  the  reason  instead 
of  to  the  feelings. 

Mr.  Baker  said  that  the  next  charge  was 
far  more  serious.  He,  Mr.  Capel,  on  several 
occasions — privately,  he  admitted,  but  yet  not 
less  invidiously — had  stated  that  God's  Holy 
Bible  was  false  and  contradictory  in  several 
places.  False  in  its  history  and  science  ;  false 
and  even  barbarous  in  its  general  teachings 
and  tendency  ;  false  in  its  idea  of  a  Supreme 
Being.  Its  prophecies  were  false,  its  mira 
cles  untrue,  and  that  many  parts  of  that 
blessed  book  were  unfit  to  be  read.  "  I  can 
not,  I  dare  not,  my  friends,"  said  the  speaker, 
much  excited,  "  repeat  the  horrid  blasphemies 
to  which  he  has  given  utterance.  The  offense 
is  of  such  a  nature  as  not  only  sufficient  to 
exclude  any  man  from  our  confidence — to  place 
him  beyond  the  pale  of  moral  society — but 
also  to  subject  him  to  the  pains  and  penalties 
wisely  and  properly  provided  against  blas 
phemy  by  the  laws  of  this  realm.  0  my 
friends !  I  feel  a  dreadful  responsibility  for  hav 
ing  permitted  that  man — that  guilty,  deceitful 
man — to  go  about  among  our  people  and  be 
tray  us,  while  holding  such  sentiments." 

The  reverend  gentleman  grew  very  indig 
nant ;  his  assumed  regret  and  forbearance  dis 
appeared,  and  he  scowled  upon  the  accused 
with  a  ferocity  of  expression  which  might  hav« 
made  even  his  pious  brother  in  the  ministry, 


180 


EXETER  HALL. 


Doctor  Buster,  feel  a  little  nervous.  Yet  Mr. 
Capel  sat  there  unintimidated  ;  lie  never  flinch 
ed  beneath  the,  dark  fiery  eye  that  was  now 
turned  upon  him  :  but.  it  was  particularly  for 
tunate  for  him,  at  the  time,  that  "  brother  "  Ba 
ker  had  not  full  power  to  impose  the  aforesaid 
"  pains  and  penalties  so  wisely  provided  by 
law."  The  rack  or  the  thumb-screw,  so  neces 
sary  in  other  days  for  the  propagation  of  one 
form  of  Christianity,  might  not  then  have  been 
looked  upon  with  such  holy  horror  were  this 
(servant  of  God  only  permitted  to  apply  them  in 
defense  of  the  "  book  of  books." 

Brother  Wesley  Jacobs  and  others  of  the 
elect  were  grieved  in  spirit,  groaned  audibly, 
and  shuddered  to  find  themselves  in  such 
proximhy  to  an  actual  reviler  of  the  Gospel  ; 
it  was  dreadful ;  and  many  of  the  faithful 
around  raised  their  pious  eyes  toward  the 
ceiling,  and  thanked  God  that  they  had  not 
hearts  of  unbelief.  Nearly  all  looked  upon 
the  junior  preacher  as  one  who  had  fallen — 
miserably  fallen— from  a  high  estate  ;  yes,  one 
whose  condemnation  was  already  sealed. 
Were  he  a  criminal — a  felon  before  a  judicial 
bar — there  would  have  been  hope,  pity,  and 
sympathy,  extended  toward  him  ;  but  for  an 
awful  unbeliever  did  not  the  word  say,  "  Let 
him  be  accursed  "  ? 

Besides  some  of  the  ladies  whose  tender  feel 
ings  were  yet  with  the  accused,  "  old  Father 
White  " — as  the  superannuated  preacher  was 
familiarly  called — looked  with  compassion 
upon  the  young  man,  and  yearned  for  his 
soul  as  well  as  for  his  restoration.  .Father 
White  was  loved  for  his  kind,  human  impul 
ses  ;  the  natural  man  was  not  yet  entirely 
absorbed  in  the  spiritual.  He  knew  there 
was  one  text  which  said,  "  But  though  we, 
or  an  angel  from  heaven,  preach  any  other 
gospel  unto  you  than  that  which  we  have 
preached  unto  you,  let  him  be  accursed  ;"  and 
another,  "If  there  come  any  unto  you  and 
bring  not  this  doctrine,  receive  him  not 
into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  Godspeed  ;" 
still,  under  the  influence  of  human  frailty,  he 
preferred  the  text  which  said,  "  Judge  not, 
and  ye  shall  not  be  judged  ;  condemn  not, 
and  ye  shall  not  be  condemned ;  forgive,  and 
ye  shall  be  forgiveu."  And  now,  could  he  get 
his  erring  brother — or  rather  his  erring  son — 
then  and  there  to  make  an  open  acknowledg 
ment  of  his  sin — to  accept  the  divine  word 
before  all,  it  would  bring  confusion  upon  skep 
tics,  and  redound  to  the  glory  of  the  Gospel. 

In  natural  dispositions,  there  was  a  great 
difference  between  the  old  superannuated 
preacher,  Father  White,  and  the  Rev.  James 
Baker,  the  superintendent.  The  influence  of 
the  spirit  which  would  induce  one  to  restore  a 
doubting  Thomas  would  actuate  the  other  to 
cut  him  off  root  and  branch.  There  was  the 
mild  impulse  of  humanity  on  the  one  side 
and  the  stern,  unrelenting  spirit  of  orthodoxy 
on  the  other. 

"  My    son — my    brother,"    said    the    old 

E readier,  "  do  you  not  see  how  greatly  you 
ave  sinned  in  bringing  discredit  upon  the 
Gospel  of  our  Lord  ?  The  guilt  is  greater  on 
your  part,  having  been  a  lal>orer  in  the  vine 
yard.  God  lucks  upon  unbelief,  that  hideous 
monster  of  the  human  heart,  as  involving 


the  rejection  of  the  Holy  Spirit— a  sin  of  such 
magnitude  as  to  close  the  ear  of  heavenly 
mercy  to  all  future  appeals,  and  seal  the  of 
fender  to  the  doom  of  eternal  perdition. 

"  The  true  Christian  can  not — dare  not — look 
upon  the  rejection  of  the  Gospel  in  any  more 
favorable  light.  My  brother,  what  saith  the 
Scripture — Matt.  12 :  81,  32,  '  I  say  unto  you, 
all  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  for 
given  unto  men  ;  but  the  blasphemy  against 
the  Holy  Ghost  shall  'not  be  forgiven  unto  men. 
And  whosoever  speaketh  a  word  against  the 
Son  of  Man,  it  shall  be  forgiven  him;  but 
whosoever  speaketh  against  the  Holy  Ghost, 
it  sJiall  not  be  forgiven  him — neither  in  this 
world,  neither  in  the  world  to  come.' 

"  That  is,  '  all  manner  of  sin  ' — crimes  of  the 
deepest  die — ingratitude,  murder,  any  thing 
may  be  forgiven  but  that  woeful  offense 
against  the  Holy  Spirit — against  high  hea 
ven — shall  not,  can  not  be  forgiven,  dreadful 
to  contemplate !  O  my  brother  !  I  feel  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  still  strives  with  you,  and 
that  you  are  not  as  yet  left  to  a  reprobate 
heart,  and  cut  off  forever.  Haste  !  hesitate  no 
longer  !  He  who  willfully  rejects  the  divine 
word  rejects  the  spirit  of  grace,  and  insures 
his  own  condemnation.  Mark  your  danger  ! 
you  once  received  the  Gospel,  dare  you  now 
refuse  it  ?  Has  not  our  Master  said,  '  No 
man  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plow,  and 
looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God.' 
And  Paul  says,  in  Heb.  5,  '  It  is  impossible  for 
those  who  were  once  enlightened,  and  have 
tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift,  if  they  shall  fall 
away,  to  renew  them  again  unto  repentance  ; 
seeing  they  crucify  to  themselves  the  Son  of 
God  afresh,  and  put  him  to  an  open  shame.' 
'  If  we  sin  willfully  after  that  we  have  received 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  there  remaineth 
no  more  sacrifice  for  sins  ;  but  a  certain  fear 
ful  looking  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indigna 
tion,  which  shall  devour  the  adversaries.' 

"  These  extracts  from  the  word  of  God,  my 
brother,  ought  to  make  you  start  in  your 
sleep  !  Be  not  attracted  and  deceived  by  the 
world ;  the  transitory  things  of  time  and 
sense  are  comparatively  unworthy  of  our 
notice.  Cling  to  divine  revelation — it  givee 

S)u  an  assurance  of  a  glorious  hereafter ! 
ow  insignificant  are  the  rulers  or  great  men 
of  the  earth,  when  compared  with  the  illus 
trious  characters  portrayed  in  the  Holy  Bible ! 
Who  can  compare  with  David  the  sweet 
Psalmist  of  the  Old  Testament ;  or  with  Paul, 
the  great  apostle,  of  the  New  ?  Alas  !  what 
would  the  world  be  without  the  Bible? 
Where  should  we  find  our  morality — where 
our  civilization  ?  Take  away  the  Bible,  and 
the  world  would  be  a  chaos !  Uproot  our 
divine  religion,  and  what  can  you  give  in  its 
place  ?" 

The  old  preacher  again  tenderly  pleaded, 
and  again  repeated  his  admonitions.  He 
would  have  cheerfully  given  up  his  few  re 
maining  years,  and  nave  died  to  save  his 
erring  brother ;  and  when  he  sat  down, 
though  Mr.  Baker  and  others,  "  steadfast  in 
the  Lord,"  remained  stern  and  immovable 
yet  the  greater  number  under  his  voice  and 
exhortation  were  softened  even  to  tears. 


EXETER    HALL. 


1G1 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


Mr.  Capel  got  up  to  speak,  there 
was  almost  perfect  silence  ;  all  were  anxious 
to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  in  reply  to  the 
serious  charges  of  the  superintendent,  and 
many  were  of  opinion  that  the  plea  so  feel 
ingly  made  by  Father  White  had  turned  the 
scale  in  favor  of  the  accused  ;  that  he  would 
most  probably  acknowledge  his  error,  and  sub 
mit  to  a  reproof.  Mr.  Baker  himself  seemed 
rather  disconcerted  ;  he  did  not  approve  of 
tampering  with  an  enemy  ;  he  would  not  have 
taken  a  single  step  toward  the  reclamation  of 
a  skeptic  by  argument.  Unbelief  to  him  was 
a  crime  that  should  be  punished.  He  would 
rather  follow  the  example  of  a  class  of  in 
quisitors,  who,  in  dealing  with  certain  peni 
tents,  first  granted  absolution,  but  gave  the 
body  to  the  flames,  lest  the  soul  should  be  en 
dangered  by  a  relapse  into  heresy.*  As  it  was, 
he  neither  wanted  penitence  nor  pardon  ;  he 
had  the  offender  in  his  clutches  —  let  the  law 
take  its  course. 

"  I  can  not  but  feel,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "  that 
the  consideration  extended  toward  me  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  White  demands  my  most  heartfelt 
thanks.  Viewing  the  matter  from  his  stand 
point,  I  have  committed  a  most  grievous  of 
fense  against  religion  —  against  the  church  of 
which  I  was  once  a  member,  but  to  which  I 
can  never  more  claim  to  belong.  I  would 
fain  have  his  good  opinion  ;  and,  for  his  sake, 
and  the  sake  of  many  others,  I  wish  we  could 
believe  alike  —  I  fear  it  is  now  impossible  ;  but 
we  all  know  by  experience  that  that  which 
at  one  period  of  our  lives  might  have  been 
estimated  as  true  and  beautiful,  at  a  subse 
quent  period  may  cease  to  possess  that  virtue 
and  quality.  What  appears  to  be  truth  to 
one  may  be  error  to  another  ;  and,  as  our  con 
victions  in  this  respect  are  not  voluntary,  but 
are,  or  rather  ought  to  be,  the  result  of  a  men 
tal  process,  this  result  should  be  accepted,  no 
matter  how  painful  to  our  own  feelings  or  to 
the  feelings  of  another. 

"  The  second  charge  brought  against  me  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Baker  is,  in  the  main,  correct  ; 
but  I  object  to  the  terms  which  he  lias  used. 
I  have  never  '  sneered  at  '  or  '  reviled  '  any 
thing  religious,  nor  have  I  spoken  '  contempt 
uously  '  of  the  founder  of  Methodism,  or  of 
any  Christian  doctrine.  I  admit  that,  for  a 
long  period,  I  had  serious  doubts  —  long  rank 
ling  privately  in  my  own  bosom  ;  these  I  tried, 
with  all  my  power,  to  suppress  ;  and  if  pray 
ers  or  tears  could  have  removed  them,  they 
would  not  have  remained.  If  I  ever  ventured 
t;>  mention  them  to  any  person,  it  was  to  some 
one  whom  I  considered  more  experienced  than 
I  was  myself.  Upon  my  appointment  to  this 
circuit,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  many 
members  of  the  church  —  generally  the  more 
studious  and  thoughtful  —  were  troubled  with 
nearly  the  same  doubts  which  agitated  my 
wn  mind,  and  sought  occasionally  to  confer 
ith  me  for  an  explanation." 


*The  inquisitors  probably  took  their  cue  from  St. 
Paul— 1  Cor.  5:5,"  To  deliver  such  a  one  unto  Sal  an 
for  the  destruction  of  the  flesh,  that  the  spirit  may  be 
«aved  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 


"  'Tis  false  !  'tis  false  !  Name  them — let  us 
know  them  !"  cried  Mr.  Baker,  jumping  up, 
dark  and  angry  ;  "  let  us  have  their  names, 
and  let  them  answer  for  themselves  if  they 
are  present.  'Tis  false  !"  he  wildly  reiterated, 
striking  the  palm  of  his  hand  fiercely.  "  No 
man,  woman,  or  child  on  the  circuit  ever  had 
doubts  until  you  brought  them.  1  say  again, 
j  'tis  false !" 

Some  of  the  official  members  were  becom 
ing  agitated,  and  others  rocked  impatiently  in 
t  their  seats,  as  if  anxious  for  the  word  of  com 
mand  to  "  go  in  "  and  defend  the  faith  ;  and 
were  it  not  for  the  calm,  tolerant  bearing  of 
good  Father  White,  there  might  have  been  a 
scene  worthy  of  a  notice  in  the  next  morning 
paper. 

"  Friends,"   said   he  mildly,   "  I    pray   let 
there  be  no  interruption.     Let  us  hear   Mr. 
j  Capel 'a  reply  to  the  charges  ;  let  him  speak 
freely,  and  if  what  he  says  is  not  sufficient  t  > 
exculpate  him,  the  ohurch  can  so  express  it." 

Mr.  Capel  took  no  notice,  however,  of  the 
|  interruption.  He  said,  if  permitted,  he  would 
give  a  simple  statement  of  his  views,  and  if 
lie  could  be  proved  to  be  in  error,  he  would 
cheerfully  submit  to  their  decision.  Having, 
as  he  said,  entertained  serious  doubts,  he 
thought  it  his  duty,  as  one  on  probation  for 
the  ministry,  to  inquire  into  the  alleged  er 
rors,  discrepancies,  and  contradictions  said  to 
|  have  been  discovered  throughout  the  Bible, 
with  a  view  of  being  better  able  to  speak  in 
its  defense  and  refute  the  arguments  of 
skeptics.  In  so  doing,  he  had  read  the  most 
distinguished  authors  for  and  against  the 
Bible  ;  he  conceived  that  he  could  form  no 
just  conclusions  by  merely  reading  one  side  ; 
that  if  the  Bible  were  perfect  truth,  as  its  up 
holders  asserted,  no  strictness  of  investigation 
could  possibly  affect  its  paramount  claim. 
Contrary  to  his  expectations,  however,  that 
investigation  had  but  still  further  shaken  his 
faith,  and  satisfied  him  that  his  previous 
doubts  were  but  too  well  founded.  He  felt 
that  this  was  a  delicate  subject  to  mention  in 
a  Methodist  church  ;  but,  as  his  motives  had 
been  impugned,  he  thought  it  but  proper  to 
give  the  reasons  for  his  unbelief. 

"We  want  to  hear  none  of  your  reasons.  I 
dare  say  your  so  -  called  investigation  was 
more  confined  to  Tom  Paine  than  it  was  to 
Paley  ;  no  doubt  your  distinguished  friend, 
Mannors,  gave  you  important  assistance  in 
the  research." 

"  Patience,  brother  Baker,"  said  Mr.  White. 
"  We  should  hear  him  out  like  Christian  men — 
like  men  who  are  not  afraid  of  the  rock  on 
which  "they  stand." 

"  I  know,"  continued  Mr.  Capel,  "how 
deeply  ministers  and  members  of  the  church 
must  feel  when  defects  and  inconsistencies  are 
said  to  have  been  discovered  in  a  book  which 
they  have  been  taught  to  believe  '  inspired  ;' 
I  know  personally  the  strength  of  such  prej  u- 
dices,  and  I  know  how  positive  the  precepts 
of  that  book  are  against  unbelief.  But  when 
a  claim  is  made  to  infallibility,  such  precepts 
should  not  prevent  investigation. 

"  If  you  shut  out  inquiry,  distrust  is  sure  to 
enter.  I. do  not  wish  to  particularize  in  this 
place,  or  to  go  into  details  as  to  what  parts  in 


132 


EXETER    HALL. 


the  Bible  I  have  found  objectionable.  I  do  not 
wish  to  utter  any  thing  which  might  cause  a 
moment's  pain  .to  any  one  present,  but  I 
wish  to  be  permitted  to  give  the  reasons  why 
I  dissent  from  what  has  just  been  so  kindly 
expressed  by  one  for  whom.  I  shall  ever  enter 
tain  a  high  regard. 

"  Our  reverend  father  has  drawn  a  comparison 
between  the  great  men  and  rulers  of  the  earth, 
and  two  of  the  principal  characters  of  Scrip 
ture,  DAVID  and  PAUL — the  psalmist  and  the 
great  apostle.  For  centuries  the  pious  have 
given  these  personages  a  prominent  place  in 
the  history  of  the  Bible — have  lauded  their 
many  and  noble  virtues,  and  recommended 
them  as  distinguished  patterns  to  all  mankind. 
David,  in  particular,  has  been  called  '  a  man 
after  God's  own  heart '  for  his  reputed  excel 
lencies  and  obedience  to  the  divine  will.  The 
Bible  itself  goes  far  to  establish  this  reputa 
tion  ;  for  it  says  that,  '  David  did  that  which 
was  right  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  and  turned 
not  aside  from  any  thing  that  was  command 
ed  him  all  the  days  of  his  life,  save  only  in 
the  matter  of  Uriah  the  Hittite.'  It  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  greater  eulogy  within  the 
limits  of  that  book.  In  reading  this  commend 
ation,  a  person  would  think  that  David  was 
one  of  the  most  estimable  that  ever  lived.  I 
can  not  believe  so.  I  judge  him  by  the  records 
of  the  same  Bible  ;  and  I  have  often  thought 
that  there  must  have  been  one  of  the  many 
Bible  interpolations,  made  to  express  a  grave 
error— a  blasphemy — in  saying  that  David 
could  ever  be  '  a  man  after  God's  own  heart.' 
Who  would  choose  a  cruel,  blood-thirsty,  ra 
pacious  man — a  deliberate  murderer— to  be  his 
bosom  friend  ?  Let  us  glance  at  the  history  of 
David. 

"  His  first  principal  act  was  the  slaying  of 
Goliath,  whose  head  he  afterward  cut  oft'. 
Anxious  to  obtain  Michal,  the  king's  daugh 
ter,  for  his  wife,  Saul,  it  is  said,  told  David 
that  if  he  brought  him  the  foreskins  of  one 
hundred  Philistines,  he  should  have  her. 
David,  who  had  been  made  a  '  captain  over  a 
thousand,'  thereupon  went  with  his  men  and 
slaughtered  '  of  tlie  Philistines  two  hundred 
men,'  one  hundred  more  than  was  required  ; 
and  he  '  brought  their  foreskins  and  gave 
them  in  full  tale,  to  the  king,  that  he  might 
be  the  king's  son-in-law.'  David,  by  this 
means,  succeeded  in  getting  his  first  wife.  It 
strikes  me  that  it  was  a  most  barbarous  mode  ; 
no  way  inferior  to  the  way  in  which  brutal 
ized  savages  purchased  similar  favors  with 
the  scalps  of  their  enemies.  Again,  in  a  war, 
he  '  went  out  and  fought  with  the  Philistines, 
and  slew  them  with  great  slaughter.'  To 
screen  himself  from  the  anger  of  Saul,  he 
prevailed  upon  Jonathan  to  tell  the  king  a 
falsehood.  After  he  had  fled  from  Saul,  he  told 
a  lie  to  Ahimelech,  the  priest,  as  to  the  rea 
son  for  his  departure. 

"  \Vhenhe  went  to  Achish,  the  king  of  Gath, 
— being  '  sore  afraid  ' — '  he  changed  his  beha 
vior  before  them  and  feigned  himself  mad,  and 
scrabbled  on  the  doors  of  the  gate,  and  let  his 
spittle  fall  down  upon  his  beard.'  Having  es 
caped  to  a  cave,  he  again  became  a  captain  over 
about  six  hundred  freebooters — men  who  were 
'  in  distress,' '  in  debt,'  and  'discontented ' — rea 


dy  for  any  enterprise  ;  and  the  Lord,  having 
delivered  the  Philistines  into  his  hand,  ha 
brought  away  their  cattle,  and  again  '  smote 
them  with  a  great  slaughter.'  Alter  various 
adventures,  David,  on  being  refused  a  favor 
by  Nalial,  a  herdsman,  '  girded  on  his  sword,' 
and  went  out  with  his  men  for  the  purpose  of 
destroying  him  and  his  helpers.  The  oath  he 
swore  to  this  effect  is  too  indelicate  to  men 
tion.  On  his  way,  he  was  met  by  Abigail, 
Nabal's  wife — '  a  woman  of  a  beautiful  coun 
tenance.'  She  brought  presents  to  David,  and 
entreated  him  to  spare  her  husband,  and  his 
wrath  was  appeased.  Ten  days  after  her  re 
turn,  the  Lord,  it  is  said, '  smote  Nabal  that  he 
died  ; '  and  when  David  heard  it,  he  sent  and 
took  Abigail  to  wife — Michal,  his  first  wife, 
having  been  taken  from  him  by  Saul — and  at 
the  same  -time  he  took  another  woman  to  wife, 
named  Ahinoam. 

"Were  it  not,  therefore,  for  the  intercession  of 
Nabal's  wife,  David  would  have  committed  a 
cruel  outrage,  simply  because  he  was  chur 
lishly  refused  a  favor  by  Nabal. 

"  Dreading  the  enmity  of  Saul,  David,  with 
his  wives  and  his  six  hundred  adventurers, 
fled  to  the  land  of  the  Philistines,  and  again 
sought  the  protection  of  Achish,  king  of 
Gath.  Not  desiring  to  dwell  in  the  royal 
city,  he  prevailed,  upon  the  king  to  give  him 
'  a  place  in  some  town  in  the  country.'  Achish 
kindly  gave  him  Ziglag  ;  and,  while  dwelling 
there  in  safety  from  Saul,  he  violated  the 
rights  of  hospitality  ;  and,  like  a  brigand, 
with  his  six  hundred  privately  made  incur 
sions  into  certain  nations,  even  allies  of  his  pro 
tector.  '  He  smote  the  land,  and  left  neither 
man  nor  woman  alive  ;  and  took  away  the 
sheep,  and  the  oxen,  and  the  asses,  and  the 
camels,  and  the  apparel.'  When  questioned 
by  Achish  as  to  his  inroads,  he  deceived  the 
king,  by  stating  that  he  had  been  against 
other  people  hostile  to  him  ;  and  to  support 
the  untruth,  he  cut  off  every  living  being 
whom  he  had  taken.  The  text  says,  '  And 
David  saved  neither  man  nor  ^ooman  nlice,  to 
bring  tidings  to  Gath,  saying,  lest  they  should 
tell  on  us.'  Such  wanton  and  unprovoked 
slaughter  to  hide  deception  was  the  extreme 
of  human  depravity. 

"  He  again  went  to  the  king  and  gave  evi 
dence  of  his  want  of  patriotism,  by  basely 
proposing  to  join  the  Philistines  with  hia 
men  in  a  war  against  Ms  own  country  ;  but, 
being  mistrusted,  he  was  not  permitted  to  go, 
and  he  regretted  his  rejection. 

"  Upon  his  return  to  Ziglag,  he  found  that 
the  Amalikites,  whom  he  had  wantonly  de 
spoiled,  had,  during  his  absence,  entered  and 
burnt  his  city,  and  had  taken  his  wives  and 
all  that  were  thert-in  captives  ;  but  they  ex 
hibited  a  greater  humanity  than  David,  for  it 
is  said  '  that  they  slew  not  any,  either  great 
or  small."  After  bewailing  his  loss,  he  went 
and  consulted  God  through  the  medium  of  an 
'  <])/!»(!,' — us  a  heathen  would  his  oracle,  and 
having  received  divine  encouragement,  he,with 
only  four  hundred  of  his  men — the  other  two 
hundred  being '  faint ' — went  out  against  the 
Amalikites.  The  text  says, '  And  David  smote 
them  from  the  twilight  even  until  the  evening 
of  the  next  day  ;  and  there  escaped  not  a  mau 


EXETER    HALL. 


133 


of  them,  pave  four  hundred  young  men,  which 
rode  upon  camels  and  fled.'  If  the  Bible 
be  true,  this  bloody  restitution  was  awarded 
by  the  Almighty,  and  David  was  the  meek 
avenger ! 

"  When  Saul  was  dead,  David  was  recognized 
by  the  tribe  of  Judah  as  their  king;  but  he 
soon  began  to  intrigue  for  the  house  of  Israel, 
over  which  reigned  Ish-boseth,  the  son  of 
Saul ;  and  he  encouraged  a  traitorous  propo 
sal  made  by  Abner,  chief  general  of  the  army 
of  Israel.  Fierce  wars  were  prosecuted  be 
tween  Judah  and  Israel — the  select  people 
of  God.  David  finally  succeeded  in  being  es 
tablished  as  ruler  over  both  nations  ;  but  the 
means  he  used  to  accomplish  this  object  were 
most  cruel  and  unjustifiable.  At  this  time, 
besides  Michal,  his  first  wife,  he  had  six 
others ;  and  six  sons  were  born  unto  him  at 
Hebron.  Now,  having  obtained  full  dominion, 
instead  of  giving  an  example  of  self-denial, 
and  making  an  endeavor  to  promote  peace  and 
good-will  among  men,  the  text  says,  '  And 
David  took  him  more  concubines  and  wives 
out  of  Jerusalem  after  he  was  come  from 
Hebron.'  Then,  under  direction  of  the  Lord, 
he  continued  to  war,  dealing  blood  and  de 
struction  to  different  nations;  and,  following 
the  brutal  example  of  Joshua,  he  '  haughed  ' 
or  hamstrung  '  all  the  chariot-horses '  taken 
in  battle,  save  one  hundred  kept  for  his  own 
use ! 

"  When  the  '  ark  of  God '  was  '  set  upon  a 
new  cart  and  brought  out  of  the  house  of 
Abinadab,'  David  appears  in  a  new  character. 
Merely  girdled  with  a  linen  ephod,  he  danced 
naked  on  the  highway  before  the  Lord  and 
all  present.  The  linen  girdle  must  have  been 
but  of  gossamer  texture,  as  his  first  wife,  Mi 
chal,  sarcastically  reproved  him  for  the  in 
decency  in  these  words,  '  How  glorious  \vas 
the  king  of  Israel  to-day,  who  uncovered 
himself  to-day  in  the  eyes  of  the  handmaids 
of  his  servants,  as  one  of  the  vain  fellows 
shamelessly  uncovereth  himself!'  For  this 
deserved  reproach,  he  repudiated  Michal,  who 
had  been  faithful  to  him  when  he  was  poor 
and  unknown  ;  and  afterward,  upon  a  mere 
pretense,  caused  two  of  her  brothers  and 
five  of  her  sons  by  her  other  husband  to  be 
huiif/f  Bishop  Kitto,  in  framing  an  excuse 
for  this  terrible  act,  says,  '  It  was  desirable  for 
the  peace  of  his  successors  that  the  house  of 
Saul  should  be  exterminated !' 

"  When  David  was  about  forty  years  of  age, 
he  saw  a  woman,  who  was  very  beautiful, 
washing  herself;  upon  inquiry,  he  found  she 
was  the  wife  of  Uriah,  but  he  took  her,  and  slie 
became  with  child.  To  get  rid  of  Uriah,  who 
was  one  of  his  soldiers,  he  gave  private 
orders  to  have  him  placed  '  in  the  forefront  of 
the  hottest  battle' — tor  battles. were  then  of 
frequent  occurrence — so  that  Uriah,  being  un 
supported,  was  slain.  David  then  took  Hath- 
sheba,  the  widow,  and  made  her  another  of 
his  wives. 

"As  David  grew  older,  he  was  n<>t  content. 
but  was  anxious  for  more  conquests ;  and  he 
extended  the  boundaries  of  his  empire  from 
Egypt  to  the  Euphrates.  His  treatment  of  the 
vanquished,  always  terrible,  was  at  times  very 
atrocious.  Having  taken  Habbath,  the  chief 


city  of  the  Ammonites,  and  the  great  spoil 
it  contained,  the  text  says,  '  And  he  brought 
forth  the  people  that  were  therein,  and  put 
them  tinder  mite*  and  under  harrows  of  iron, 
and  under  axes  of  iron,  and  made  them,  pass 
through  the  brick-kiln,  and  thus  did  he  unto 
all  the  children  of  Ammon  !' 

"  The  indecent  scandals  of  his  household 
are  recorded  in  the  Bible  ;  but  all  through  a 
long  life,  he  was  a  man  of  uncontrollable  pas 
sion,  his  self-indulgence,  even  to  licentious 
ness,  being  of  the  grossest  character ;  for, 
when  he  was  old  and  '  stricken  in  years,'  the 
shameful  chronicle  was  added  against  him. 
As  he  drew  near  his  end,  one  would  think  that 
then,  if  at  any  time,  he  would  have  exhibited 
some  redeeming  qualities — some  remorse — 
but  the  picture  grows  darker.  In  his  last 
charge  to  his  son  Solomon,  he  betrays  trea 
chery  and  vindictiveness  almost  without  par 
allel.  Here  are  his  words :  '  Moreover,  thou 
knowest  also  what  Joab,  the  son  of  Zeruiah, 
did  to  me,  and  what  he  did  to  the  captainn  of 
the  hosts  of  Israel,  unto  Abner,  the  son  of  Ner, 
and  unto  Amasa,  the  son  of  J ether,  whom  he 
slew,  and  shed  the  blood  of  war  in  peace,  and 
put  the  blood  of  war  upon  his  girdle  that  was 
about  his  loins,  and  in  his  shoes  that  were  on 
his  feet.  Do,  therefore,  according  to  thy  wis 
dom,  and  let  not  his  hoar  head  go  down  to 
the  grave  in  peace. 

"  '  And  behold  thou  hast  with  thee,  Shimei, 
the  son  of  Gera,  a  Benjamite,  of  Bahurim, 
which  cursed  me  with  a  grievous  curse  in  the 
day  when  I  went  to  Mahanaim  ;  but  he  came 
down  to  meet  me  at  Jordan,  and  I  sware  to 
him  by  the  Lord,  saying,  1  will  not  put  thee 
to  death  with  the  sword. 

" '  Now,  therefore,  hold  him  not  guiltless  ; 
for  thou  art  a  wise  man,  and  knowest  what 
thou  oughtest  to  do  unto  him ;  but  his  hoar 
head  bring  thou  down  to  the  grave  with 
blood.' 

"  Thus  David  passed  away  without  one 
word  of  forgiveness  for  his  enemies,  or  even 
one  word  of  regret  for  his  misdeeds.  Over 
hung  by  the  shadow  of  death,  vengeance  was 
upon  his  lips,  and  his  last  act  was  the  viola 
tion  of  his  solemn  oath  to  protect  Shimei. 

"  Who,  then,  at  this  later  period,  could  ex 
pect  to  be  regarded  as  righteous  by  following 
the  example  of  such  a  life  or  of  such  a  death  ? 
The  humanity  of  these  so-called  degenerate 
days  shudders  at  the  idea !  Who,  with  & 
true  heart,  would  not  prefer  years  of  poverty 
and  an  unknown  grave,  rather  than  live  like 
David  and  be  called  '  a  man  after  God's  own 
heart'?" 

During  this  delivery,  Mr.  Capel  was  several 
times  interrupted  ;  Mr.  Baker  often  becanu 
nearly  outrageous.  He  would  not  permil 
persons  weak  in  the  faith  to  be  contaminateJ 
by  such  heresy ;  and,  to  pacify  him  in  some 
degree,  Father  White  proposed  that  all 
present  should  be  requested  to  ret  in;  excepl 
the  church  officials  and  a  few  others  who 
could  be  depended  on.  After  some  discus 
sion,  this  was  agreed  to  ;  a  great  many  wen 
away,  but  a  few  yet  lingered,  here  and 
there,  as  if  their  interest  had  been  increased 
So  the  ministers  and  officials  had  it  nearly  all 
to  themselves. 


EXETER    HALL. 


"  Brother,"  said  Mr.  White,  in  his  usual  mild 
manner,  "the  character  you  have  drawn  of  Da 
vid  is  only  such  as  the  Bible  gives  him  ;  it  is 
an  evidence  of  its  impartiality ;  it  depicts  man 
with  his  defects  as  well  as  with  his  virtues. 
It  does  not  screen  the  offender,  though  it  ex 
alts  the  penitent." 

"  I  can  not  say,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "  that  the 
recital  of  such  defects  can  be  profitable  or 
edifying  ;  it,  on  the  contrary,  tends  to  give 
men  false  ideas  of  what  is  right.  The  inhu 
manities  of  profane  history  claim  no  heavenly 
sanction  ;  no  brutalized  leader  could  exhibit 
ft  divine  commission  ;  men  acted  under  the 
impulse  of  human  passion,  not  as  hordes 
rushing  out  to  execute  the  vengeance  of  a 
deity.  The  actions  of  David,  as  recorded 
in  the  books  of  Samuel,  like  other  biblical 
biographies,  have  rather  a  tendency  to  blunt 
our  feelings  of  delicacy  and  humanity  than 
to  make  them  m  re  sensitive.  The  man 
who  for  the  first  time  sees  the  dead  and 
dying  stretched  upon  the  battle-field  is 
shocked  at  the  carnage ;  but  sad  experience 
has  proved  that  the  most  humane  become  in 
different  by  the  frequency  of  such  sights. 
When  we  read  numerous  accounts  in  the  Bi 
ble  that  conflict  with  the  prevailing  ideas  of 
purity  and  justice,  we  gradually  learn  to  ac 
cept  them  when  we  are  told  that  the  Almighty 
for  some  special  purpose,  connived  at  or  favor 
ed  such  actions.  In  cruelties  continuing  from 
the  Waldenses  to  the  Quaker,  Inquisitors 
and  Puritans  alike  have  emblazoned  their  per 
secuting  banners  with  authoritative  texts." 

"  The  Bible  does  not  exculpate  David,"  said 
Mr.  White  ;  "  you  know  of  Nathan's  stern  re 
proof.  That  David  sincerely  repented  is  fully 
established  by  his  Psalms." 

"  There  are  Christian  men  willing  to  ad 
mit  that  David  committed  many  vile  acts,  but 
the  Bible  accuses  him  in  only  one  instance, 
that  of  Uriah;  it  was  for  this  that  Nathan 
rebuked  him.  But  notwithstanding,  he  is  de 
fended  in  '  Holy  Writ,'  and  the  text  which  I 
shall  repeat  is  ample  proof.  But  first,  Solomon 
and  some  of  his  people  were  threatened  for 
their  idolatry  ;  it  is  said  in  1st  Kings,  chapter 
11,  verse  33,  '  Because  they  have  forsaken  me 
and  have  worshiped  Ashtoreth,  the  goddess 
of  the  Zidonians,  Chemosh,  the  god  of  the 
Moabites,  and  Milcom,  the  god  of  the  children 
of  Ammon,  and  have  not  walked  in  my  ways, 
to  do  that  which  is  right  in  my  eyes,  and  to 
keep  my  statutes  and  my  judgments,  a»  did 
David,  his  father." 

"  Here,  while  Solomon,  the  great  and  wise, 
was  threatened  for  his  idolatry,  David,  his 
father,  was  commended  for  his  righteousness  ; 
and  when  the  Lord  promise-!  certain  favors  to 
a  successor,  it  was,  the  text  says,  '  Because 
David  did  that  which  was  right  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Lord,  and  turned  not  aside  from  any 
thing  that  he  commanded  him  all  the  daytof 
his  life,  save  only  in  the  matter  of  Uriah  the 
Hittite.'  1st  Kings,  chapter  15,  verse  5.  Lan 
guage  could  not  be  stronger.  The  approval 
of  David's  conduct  is  full  and  explicit,  one  act 
alone  being  condemned. 

'As  to  David's  being  the  author  of  the  Psalms, 
commentators  have  differed.  There  is  no  evi 
dence  to  prove  who  the  writers  were.  The 


137th  Psalm  could  not  have  been  written  till 
more  than  four  hundred  years  after  the  time 
of  David,  because  it  refers  to  the  captivity  of 
the  Jews  in  Babylon.  If,  Kowever,  such  a 
man  of  blood  wrote  the  Psalms,  no  one  could 
excel  him  in  dissimulation  ;  they  are  a  hete 
rogeneous  collection,  wherein  sentiments  of 
piety  and  self-righteousness,  imprecation  and 
vengeance,  are  freely  commingled  :  and 
though  the  Psalms  have  been  ever  lauded 
with  amazing  obliviousness  as  to  their  de 
fects,  they  would  form  but  a  wretched  basis 
for  morality  at  the  present  day." 

Mr.  Baker  made  another  effort  to  silence 
Mr.  Capel  ;  he  said  the  evidence  they  already 
had  from  his  own  lips  was  sufficient  to  brand 
the  late  junior  preacher  as  a  ravening  wolf — 
an  out  and  out  detainer  of  the  word  of  God. 
It  would  be  sinful  to  listen  any  longer.  Un 
expectedly,  however,  the  bretbren,  as  if  desir 
ous  of  allowing  the  accused  to  commit  him 
self  to  the  fullest  extent,  consented  to  hear 
his  opinion  of  Paul ;  for  he  who  could  pre 
sume  to  utter  any  thing  against  one  FO  de- 
vinely  inspired  must  be  far,  far  on  the  high 
road  to  spiritual  infamy.'  Father  White,  like 
most  preachers,  could  be  very  bitter  at  times 
against  revilers  of  the  w»rd  ;  now,  he  mani 
fested  great  patience.  He  was  troubled,  and 
seemed  to  ponder  upon  wha\.  had  been  suid  ; 
perhaps  a  terrible  doubt  might  have  been  in 
truding  upon  his  own  mind  ! 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HAVING  received  permission  to  continue  his 
reply,  Mr.  Capel,  to  the  surprise  of  Mr.  Baker, 
grew  bolder,  and  proceeded  to  give  his  opinion 
of  one  who  is  said  to  be  the  father  of  the 
Gentile  church — the  thirteenth  apostle,  as 
"  born  out  of  d»e  time,"  yet  who  declared  of 
himself  that  he  "  was  not  a  whit  behind  the 
very  chiefest." 

"  Paul,  who  was  a  Jew  and  a  Pharisee, 
though  by  no  means  so  inhuman  as  David, 
yet,  as  the  reputed  agent  of  the  high-priest, 
was  undoubtedly  guilty  of  murder ;  for  this/ 
we  have  Lis  own  acknowledgment.  In  Irjfl 
speech  before  Agrippa,  he  said,  'And  I  perse 
cuted  this  way  unto  death,  binding  and 
delivering  into  prisons  both  men  and  women.' 
(Acts  22 :  4 )  He  was  an  accomplice  at  the 
murder  of  Stephen,  (Acts  22  :  20,)  for  he  stood 
by  and  kept  the  clothes  of  those  who  stoned 
him,  '  consenting  unto  his  death,'  and  he  had 
'  breathed  out  threatenings  and  slaughter 
against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord.' 

"After  his  conversion,  his  fierce  zeal  was  but 
transferred  ;  for  when  he  considered  it  neces 
sary,  he  could 'be  rigorous  enough,  had  he  the 
power,  to  crush  his  opponents  and  extermi 
nate  heretics.  In  this  respect,  he  must  have 
been  the  exemplar  of  Calvin  and  others  of 
similar  views.  From  the  beginning,  he  evinced 
a  strong  desire  to  be  a  prominent  ruler  in 
the  church  ;  he  was  arrogant,  had  disputations, 
given  offense,  and  had  many  enemies  ;  and 
though  he  inculcated  charity,  humility,  and 
submission  to  as  irreconcilable  an  extent  as  is 
followed  by  some  religious  teachers  at  the 


EXETER    HALL. 


133 


present  day,  he  was  nevertheless  in  disposi 
tion  intolerant  and  dictatorial,  and  caused  no 
little  strife  among1  adherents  of  the  new  faith. 
Anxious  to  make  proselytes  in  his  own  way, 
the  means  he  used  were  often  exceptionable  ; 
and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he  had  not  a  consis 
tent  regard  for  truth.  If  Peter  cursed  and 
denied  his  Master,  if  John  was  presumptuous, 
if  James  was  vindictive  enough  to  wish  the 
destruction  of  an  unbelieving  village,  and  if 
Judas  was  such  a  wretch — if  these,  chosen  by 
Christ,  and  in  his  very  presence,  were  not  free 
from  sin  and  offense,  surely  we  may  admit 
that  Paul,  who  was  not  so  highly  favored, 
might  have  gravely  erred  himself — as  priests 
still  do — though  giving  excellent  admonition 
to  others. 

"  That  he  was  ambitious  of  being  distin 
guished  as  a  high-priest  in  Christianity,  many 
consider  evident  from  the  fact  that  his  alleged 
writings  are  said  to  have  been  the  first  forma 
tion  of  the  New  Testament.  Fourteen  of  its 
books  are  ascribed  to  him  alone,  the  other 
thirteen  being  the  reputed  production  of  sewn 
persons,  four  only  of  whom  were  apostles,  the 
remaining  eight  apostles  having  obtained  no 
literary  position  in  the  present  compilation. 
The  admirers  of  the  '  great  Paul '  wish,  how 
ever,  to  make  it  appear  that  it  was  because  of 
his  peculiar  fitness  and  education  that  he  was 
inspired  to  become  the  initiatory  scribe ;  but 
such  a  plea  is  untenable,  for  we  are  informed 
that  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  the  disciples 
received  the  miraculous  gift  of  tongues  in 
order  to  qualify  them  to  '  teach  all  nations.' 

"  The  inference,  therefore,  is  most  conclusive 
that  Paul,  no  matter  how  well  or  how  early 
trained  in  the  high  schools  of  his  nation,  was 
not  as  well  qualified  for  a  mission  among  the 
heathen  as  those  specially  gifted  and  in 
structed  for  that  purpose  by  a  divine  power, 
long  before  his  conversion.  His  natural  pre 
sumption,  which  led  him  to  say,  '  For  I  speak 
to  you,  Gentiles,  inasmuch  as  I  am  the  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles,  I  magnify  mine  office,'  (Rom. 
11  :  13,)  is  proof  either  of  his  entire  ignorance 
that  Christ  had  previously  made  special  ap 
pointments  for  the  Gentiles,  or  that  he  was 
determined  to  act  quite  independently,  ir 
respective  of  the  authority  granted  to  others. 
That  such  appointments  were  made  and  such 
authority  granted,  I  shall  be  able  to  prove 
from  the  Scriptures. 

"  Immediately  before  Christ  ascended,  he  gave 
his  disciples  promise  of  the  gifts  which  they 
subsequently  received  in  a  miraculous  man 
ner  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  gifts  which  en 
abled  them  to  speak  the  language  of  every 
nation  ;  and  his  intention  as  to  how  the  gifts 
or  power  should  be  vised  is  apparent  when  we 
read  the  text,  '  But  ye  shall  receive  power  af 
ter  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come  upon  you  ;  and 
ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me  both  in  Jerusa 
lem,  and  in  all  Judea,  and  in  Samaria,  and  niiti> 
the-  uttermost  part*  of  the  earth.'  (Acts  1  :  8.) 
Again  he  told  them,  '  Go  ye  therefore  and 
teach  nil  nation*.'  (Matt.  28  : 19.)  And 
again,  '  Go  ye  into  all  the  icoi-ld,  and  preach 
the  Gospel  to  ereri/  rreatnrc.'  (Mark  10  : 15.) 
These  commands  are  plain,  precise,  and  posi 
tive  ;  when  the  disciples  were  told  to  go  into 
the  '  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,'  to  '  all  na 


tions,'  and  to '  every  creature,'  no  one  can  hesi 
tate  to  believe  that  they  were  fully  commis 
sioned  to  the  heathen  ;  and  it  is  more  reasona 
ble  to  believe  that  several  persons  should  bo 
required  for  such  an  extensive  mission  than 
that  < me  man — Paul  alone — should  be  set  apart 
for  that  purpose.  That  he  therefore '  usurped 
authority '  must  be  the  inevitable  deduction 
of  every  unprejudiced  mind. 

"  Paul  is  first  spoken  of  in  the  Acts,  a  book 
written,  it  is  supposed,  by  Luke.  It  is  mostly 
a  history  of  him,  and  tradition  says  that  he 
supplied  much  or  nearly  all  of  the  information 
it  contains.  There  is  not  a  shadow  of  evidence 
to  substantiate  the  miraculous  account  of  his 
conversion  ;  the  narrative  is  entirely  his  own, 
depending  altogether  on  his  mere  assertion. 
He  does  not  give  the  names  of  any  who  were 
with  him  ;  neither  does  he  give  place,  nor 
date — simply,  '  as  I  went  to  Damascus.'  The 
story  is,  that  about  two  years  after  the  cruci 
fixion,  being  on  his  way  to  persecute  Chris 
tians,  he  suddenly  saw  '  a  great  light,'  '  a 
light  from  heaven,'  not  the  personal  appear 
ance  of  any  one  ;  he  then  fell  to  the  earth, 
heard  a  voice,  and  was  ordered  to  preach. 
This  miracle,  he  said,  made  him  a  believer  ;  the 
story,  however,  contains  several  discrepancies. 
The  first  account  of  this  occurrence,  in  Acts 
9th,  says,  that  after  they  had  seen  the  '  great 
light',  Paul  fell  to  the  earth,  but  the  men  who 
were  with  him  '  stood  speechless,'  hearing  a 
toii-i',  but  seeiny  no  man  ;  the  second  account, 
in  Acts  22,  Paul  says,  that  the  men  heard  not 
the  voice ;  and  in  the  third  statement,  Acts 
20,  he  says,  that  when  the  light  was  seen,  all 
fell  to  the  earth  !  One  account,  therefore,  says, 
that  the  men  stood  and  heard  a  voice,  another 
that  they  did  not  hear  the  voice,  and  a  third 
that  they  did  not  stand,  but  that  all  fell  to  the 
earth  !  Which  is  the  correct  account  ? 

"  According  to  these  different  narratives, 
Paul  saw  no  person,  only  a  'light/  which 
struck  him  with  immediate  blindness ;  but  he 
subsequently  wished  to  leave  the  impression 
that  he  had  seen  Jesus,  for  he  reports  him  as 
having  said,  '  For  I  have  appeared  unto  thee  ;' 
he  made  Ananias  say,  '  The  God  of  our  fathers 
hath  chosen  thee  that  thou  shouldst  know  his 
will  and  see  that  Just  One.'  (Acts  22  :  14.) 
When  the  disciples  were  doubtful  of  Paul's 
conversion  and  afraid  of  him,  his  companion, 
Barnabas,  to  whom  he  related  the  miracle,  as 
sured  them  that '  lie  had  seen  the  Lord  by  the 
way,  and  that  he  had  spoken  to  him."  (Acts 
9  : 27.)  And  Paul,  in  addressing  the  Corin 
thians,  said,  '  Am  I  not  an  apostle  ?  am  I  not 
free  ?  have  I  not  seen  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ?' 
(1  Cor.  9  : 1.)  And  again,  having  declared  that 
Christ  was  seen  by  many  after  his  resurrection, 
he  says,  '  And,  last  of  all,  he  was  seen  of  me 
also,  as  of  one  born,  out  of  due  time.'  (1  Cor. 
15  : 8.)  To  say  the  least,  the  ambiguity  of 
these  passages  is  very  great,  almost  a  contra 
diction. 

'•  By  the  two  first  accounts,  we  find  that.at  the 
time  of  his  miraculous  conversion,  Paul  receiv 
e.l  no  message,  but  was  directed  to  go  and  be  in- 
structcd  at  Damascus;  by  the  last,  we  are  in 
formed  that  he  received  his  instructions  and  au 
thority  from  the  Lord  at  the  very  hour  of  hia 
conversion,  and  that  he  proceeded  on  his  mis- 


136 


EXETER    HALL. 


eion  forthwith* — no  way  afflicted  with  blind 
ness  ! 

"  Paul  evinces  a  desire  to  be  distinguish 
ed.  He  claimed  to  be  an  apostle,  though 
not  recognized  as  such  by  the  others,  the  num 
ber  of  whom  was  limited  to  twelve.  By  his 
own  statement,  he  did  not  go  near  them  im 
mediately  after  his  reputed  conversion,  either 
for  counsel  or  to  manifest  contrition  for  what 
he  had  done  as  a  persecutor.  He  kept  away 
for  '  three  years,'  and  boasted  that  his  right  to 
teach  was  independent ;  that  he  was  not 
taught  by  man,  he  had  '  conferred  not  with 
flesh  and  blood,' '  neither,'  says  he,  '  went  I  up 
to  Jerusalem  to  them  which  were  apostles  be 
fore  me,  but  I  went  into  Arabia  and  returned 
again  to  Damascus.'  (Gal.  1  : 17.)  Indeed,  he  de 
clares  that  he  was  so  little  known  in  person 
either  to  apostles  or  disciples  as  to  be  '  un 
known  by  face  unto  the  churches  of  Judea 
which  were  in  Christ.'  '  But  they  had  heard 
only  that  he  which  persecuted  us.  in  times 
past  now  preacheth  the  faith  which  once  he 
destroyed.'  (Gal.  1  :  22,  23.) 

"  It  is  surprising,  however,  to  find  this  rela 
tion  most  positively  contradicted  in  Acts  9. 
In  that  chapter,  we  are  told  that,  after  Paul 
was  restored  to  sight,  he  remained  '  certain 
days  with  the  disciples  which  were  at  Damas 
cus.'  While  in  that  city,  his  zeal  led  him  to 
enter  the  synagogues  '  preaching  Christ '  and 
'  confounding  the  Jews,'  who,  no  doubt,  were 
greatly  annoyed  by  his  intrusion  as  well  as 
by  his  doctrine  ;  and,  governed  by  a  national 
impulse,  '  they  took  counsel  to  kill  him  ;'  but 
having  heard  of  it, '  the  disciples  took  him  by 
night,  and  let  him  down  by  the  wall  in  a  bas 
ket.'  He  then  went  direct  to  Jerusalem  '  and 
assayed  to  join  himself  to  the  disciples  ;  but 
they  were  all  afraid  of  him,  and  believed  not 
that  he  was  a  disciple,'  They,  it  appears,  had 
only  heard  of  him  as  a  persecutor,  and  had  no 
authority  for  his  conversion  but  his  own 
word.  Barnabas,  having  assured  the  apostles 
that  Paul  was  a  believer,  that  he  had 
'  preached  boldly  at  Damascus,'  they  confided 
in  him.  '  And  he  was  with  them,  coming  in 
and  going  out  at  Jerusalem.  Again  his  in 
discreet  zeal  brought  him  into  trouble ;  he 
'  disputed  against  the  Grecians/  and  they, 
most  probably  incited  by  the  Jews,  '  went 
about  to  slay  him ;'  and  the  '  brethren, '  to 
save  him  a  second  time,  '  sent  him  forth  to 
Tarsus.' 

"  Furthermore,  in  his  speech  before  Agrippa, 
Paul  stated  that,  in  obedience  to  the  '  heavenly 
vision,'  he  went  'first  unto  thsm  of  Damascus 
and  at  Jerusalem,  and  throughout  all  the 
coasts  of  Judea,  and  then  to  the  Gentiles.' 

"  If  he,  therefore,  'first '  went  to  Damascus 
and  Jerusalem  after  his  conversion,  how  are 
we  to  reconcile  this  account  with  that  which 
declares  as  positively  that '  immediately '  after 
the  same  event  he  went  to  Arabia,  a'nd  did 
not  go  to  Jerusalem  until  three  years  subse 
quently  ?  Commentators  have  failed  to  pro 
duce  an  agreement :  such  glaring  discrepan 
cies  affect  the  credibility  of  the  different  narra 
tives.  If  Paul  thus  contradicts  himself,  what 
reliance  can  be  placed  upon  his  statements  ? 

*  See  Gal.  1 : 16, 17. 


To  account  for  these  contradictions,  some  sup. 
pose  that  Paul  felt  annoyed  at  his  reception 
by  the  apostles — at  the  indifference  of  thenj 
and  of  the  disciples — and  denied  being  near 
them. 

"  Having  started,  however,  upon  his  mission, 
his  constant  endeavor  was  to  impress  others 
with  his  assumed  authority.  He  never  appeals 
to  any  gospel  or  record  of  the  Jerusalem 
church,  he  never  points  to  the  true  apostles, 
but  seems  to  ignore  their  prerogative,  and 
orders  his  own  epistles  to  be  read  as  sufficient 
for  his  converts.  '  If  any  man  think  himself 
to  be  a  prophet  or  spiritual,  let  him  acknow 
ledge  the  things  that  I  write  unto  you  as  the 
commandments  of  the  Lord.'  (1  Cor.  14  :  37.) 
'  For  I  speak  unto  you,  Gentiles,  inasmuch  as 
I  am  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  I  magnify 
mine  office.'  (Rom.  11  :  13.)  When  giving 
certain  directions,  he  concludes,  'And  so  ordain 
I  in  all  churches.'  (1  Cor.  7:17.)  '  Where 
fore,  I  beseech  you,  be  ye  followers  of  me.' 
(1  Cor.  4 :  16.)  '  Be  ye  followers  of  me,  even 
as  I  also  am  of  Christ.'  (1  Cor.  11:1.)  '  Now, 
as  concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as 
I  have  given  order  to  the  churches  of  Galatia, 
even  so  do  ye.'  (1  Cor.  16  :  1.)  'To  whom 
ye  forgive  any  thing,  I  forgive  also ;  for  if  1 
forgive  any  thing,  to  whom  I  forgive  it  for 
your  sakes,  I  forgive  it  in  the  person  of  Christ.' 
(2  Cor.  2 :  10.)  '  Brethren,  be  followers  to 
gether  of  me,  and  mark  them  which  walk,  so 
as  ye  have  us  (me)  for  an  example.'  (Phil.  3  : 17.) 
'.And  if  any  man  obey  not  our  word  by  this 
epistle,  note  that  man,  and  have  no  company 
with  him,  that  he  may  be  ashamed.'  (2  Thes. 
3  :  14.)  Priestly  arrogance  could  scarcely  go 
further !  From  these  passages,  it  is  plain  that 
his  desire  was  to  be  considered  equal,  or,  ia- 
deed,  more  correctly,  superior  to  any  one 
else.  No  other  writer  in  the  New  Testament 
presumes  to  such  an  extent ;  the  real  apostles 
were  comparatively  modest  and  humble  in 
their  assertions.  The  writings  of  Paul  can 
be  distinguished  from  all  others  by  the  fre 
quent  repetitions  of  the  pronouns  1,  me,  my, 
and  mine ;  and  the  letter  /,  like  an  index- 
finger,  is  almost  continually  seen  in  his  epistles 
as  if  pointing  to  the  egotism  and  self-sufficien 
cy  of  the  scribe. 

"  Paul  was  jealous  of  other  teachers  ;  certain 
disciples  or  preachers  having  visited  the  Co 
rinthians,  to  whom  he  had  partly  devoted  him 
self,  he  wrote,  '  I  am  jealous  over  you  with 
godly  jealousy.'  (2  Cor.  11  :  2.)  And,  like 
many  an  intolerant  high-church  and  low- 
church  Paul  of  the  present  day,  he  not  only 
dealt  in  strong  imputations  against  these  teach 
ers,  but  denounced  them  as  '  false  apostles, 
deceitful  workers,  transforming  themselves 
into  the  apostles  of  Christ,'  (2  Cor.  11  :  13,) 
without  attempting  any  proof.  He  reminded 
the  Corinthians  that,  as  a  teacher,  he  was 
not  a  whit  behind  the  very  chiefest  apostles.' 
(2  Cor.  11 :  5.)  'I  say  again,  let  no  man  think 
me  a  fool;  if  otherwise  yet  as  a  fool  receive 
me,  that  I  may  boast  myself  a  little.'  (v.  16.) 
'  Are  they  Hebrews  ?  so  am  I.  Are  they 
Israelites  ?  so  am  I.  Are  they  the  seed  of 
Abraham  ?  so  am  I.  Are  they  members  of 
Christ  ?  (I  speak  as  a  fool,)  I  am  more.'  (v.  22.) 
'  I  am  become  a  fool  in  glorying ;  ye  have 


EXETER    HALL. 


13J 


compelled  me :  for  in  nothing  am  I  behind 
the  very  chiefest  apostles.'  (2  Cor.  12  :  16.) 
The  1 1  th  chapter  of  2d  Corinthians  is  almost  en 
tirely  taken  up  with  his  self-laudation,  contrast 
ing  and  denouncing.  The  teachers  who  went 
among  the  Cretans  he  also  condemned,  as 
'unruly  and  vain  talkers  and  deceivers,  whose 
mouths  must  be  stopped,'  and,  quoting  the 
language  of  another,  he  abused  the  Cretans 
as  being  'alway  liars,  evil  beasts,  slow  bellies.' 
(Titus  1  :  12.)  Yet,  after  all  his  anxiety  to 
establish  and  control  churches,  the  Corin 
thians  and  Gulatians  almost  entirely  rejected 
his  teaching.  The  Christians  at  Jerusalem, 
it  appears,  did  not  approve  of  his  course  in 
suddenly  breaking  loose  from  the  Mosaic  law 
to  please  or  gain  adherents,  and  they  sent  out 
missionaries,  with  '  letters  of  commendation,' 
to  counteract  his  teaching.  (2  Cor.  3:1.)  It 
was  against  such  that  Paul  was  so  very 
bitter. 

"As  a  preacher,  he  was  obtrusive,  given  to 
contention,  and  vindictive.  He  repeatedly 
entered  synagogues  at  Damascus,  Jerusalem, 
and  other  places,  disputing  with  Jews  and 
Gentiles,  giving  offense,  engendering  strife, 
and  causing  such  ill-will  as  often  to  place  his 
own  life  in  jeopardy ;  when  forced  to  leave, 
or  when  obstinately  confronted,  instead  of  an 
net  of  conciliation,  he  would  give  some  harsh 
rebuke,  or  defiantly  shake  the  dust  oft'  his  feet 
against  them.  (Acts  13:  51.)  Of  those  wlio  spoke 
'  slanderously '  against  him,  he  said,  their 
'damnation  was  just.'  (Rom.  3  :  8.)  He 
contended  with  Barnabas,  his  fellow- laborer, 
and  separated  from  him.  (Acts  15  :  39.)  Ac 
cording  to  his  account,  Peter,  his  senior  in  the 
church,  was  blamable,  and  he  '  withstood 
him  to  the  face.'  (Gal.  2  :  11.)  His  intoler 
ance  against  those  whom  he  called  '  unbe 
lievers  '  or  '  false  teachers '  proves  that, 
though  he  changed  his  religion,  his  dogmatic 
spirit  was  as  fierce  as  ever  :  he  said,  '  If  any 
man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him 
be  anathema  maranatha.'  (1  Cor.  16 :  22.)  '  If 
any  man  preach  any  other  gospel  unto  you 
than  that  ye  have  received,  let  him  be  ac 
cursed.'  (Gal.  1  :  9.)  Unbelievers  were  to  be 
'  punished  with  everlasting  destruction  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord.'  (2  Thes.  1:9.) 
'  And  for  this  cause  God  shall  send  them 
strong  delusion  that  they  should  believe  a  lie. 
that  they  all  might  be  damned  who  believe 
not  the  truth.'  (2  Thes.  2:11,  12.)  '  Alex 
ander  the  coppersmith  did  me  much  evil,  the 
Lord  reward  him  according  to  his  works.' 
(2  Tim.  4  :  14.)  These  denunciations  are  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  admonition  of  Christ, 
which  said,  '  bless  and  curse  not.'  Paul  said 
to  his  hearers,  '  Be  ye  followers  of  me,'  and  in 
this  dictatorial  mood  too  many  of  the  priests 
"have  trodden  in  his  very  footsteps — even  to 
the  present  day. 

"  Determined  to  gain  proselytes,  he  was  plia 
ble  and  inconsistent  ;  lie  says,  '  Unto  the 
Jew  I  became  as  a  Jew,  that  I  might  gain  the 
Jews.'  '  To  them  that  are  without  the  law,  as 
without  the  law.'  '  To  the  weak  became  I  as 
weak,  that  I  might  gain  the  weak;  I  am 
made  all  things  to  all  men.'  (1  Cor.  9  :  20  :  21.) 
To  please  s-nne,  he  professed  to  disbelieve  in 
the  utility  of  the  Mosaic  law,  and  declared  that 


'  by  the  deeds  of  the  law,  there  shall  no  flesh  be 
justified.'  (Horn.  3  :  20.)  '  Behold  I,  Paul,  say 
unto  you,  that  if  ye  be  circumcised,  Christ 
shall  profit  you  nothing.'  (Gal.  5  :  2.)  Yet  we 
shall  see  that  on  a  certain  occasion  he  agreed 
to  dissemble,  and  make  it  appear  that  he  '  walk 
ed  orderly  '  and  '  kept  the  law.'  After  having 
spent  soine  time  among  strangers,  he  revisited 
Jerusalem  and  told  the  brethren  of  his  great 
success  among  the  Gentiles.  The  brethren, 
who  gained  many  converts  among  the  Jews  by 
adhering  to  the  law.  incorporating  it  with  their 
Christianity,  said  to  him,  '  Thou  seest,  brother 
how  many  thousands  of  Jews  there  are  which 
believe  ;  and  they  are  all  zealous  of  the  law.' 
'  And  they  are  informed  of  thee  that  thou 
teachest  all  the  Jews  which  are  among  the 
Gentiles  to  forsake  Moses'  sayings,  that  they 
ought  not  to  circumcise  their  children.' 
'  What  is  it  therefore  ?  The  multitude  must 
needs  come  together  ;  for  they  will  hear  that 
thou  art  come.'  Here  wasa  difficulty ;  the  Chris 
tian  Jews  were  sure  to  learn  that  Paul,  who 
taught  a  violation  of  the  lawto  gain  the  Gentiles, 
had  come  amongthem,  and  the  teachers  at  Jeru 
salem  anticipated  trouble.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  Could  there  be  no  compromise  ?  No  ! 
nothing  but  an  open  act  of  deception  was  sug 
gested  to  preserve  the  peace !  It  was  to  be 
done  this  way — '  Do,  therefore,  this  that  we  say 
to  thee.  We  have  four  men  which  have  a  vow 
on  them.  Them  take,  and  purify  thyself  with 
them,  and  be  at  charges  with  them  ( that  is,  to 
pay  his  proportion  of  the  ceremonial  expenses,) 
that  they  mpy  shave  their  heads,  and  all  may 
know  that  those  things  whereof  they  were  in 
formed  concerning  thee  are  nothing  ;  but  that 
thou  thyself  also  walkest  orderly  and  keepest 
the  law.'  The  deception  was  to  be  carried  so 
far  as  not  only  to  try  and  make  Paul  appear 
as  a  conscientious  upholder  of  the  law,  but  that 
the  Gentiles  among  whom  he  had  been  were 
also  observers  of  it ; '  only  keeping  themselves 
from  things  offered  to  idols,  and  from  blood.' 

"  Then  Paul  took  the  men,  and  the  next 
day,  purifying  himself  with  them,  entered  into 
the  temple  to  signify  the  accomplishment  of 
the  days  of  purification,  until  that  an  offering' 
should  be  made  for  every  one  of  them.'  By 
this  act,  he  therefore  betrayed  a  total  disregard 
for  principle  or  truth.  As  to  the  culpability 
of  the  other  teachers,  we  can  not  say,  for  the 
account  was  derived  from  himself;  but  he  WPS 
not  reliable,  and  he  might  have  wished  to 
make  others  appear  as  temporizing  as  he  was 
himself.  The  deception,  however,  was  of  no 
avail ;  the  Jewish  Christians  had  been  too  well 
informed  of  his  constant  violation  of  the  law, 
and  before  the  end  of  the  seven  days — the  time 
required  for  the  ceremony  of  purification — '  the 
Jews  which  were  of  Asia,  when  they  saw  him 
in  the  temple,  stirred  up  all  the  people  and 
laid  hands  on  him.'  The  history  of  this  dis 
creditable  conduct  can  be  read  in  Acts  21  : 
17-30.  On  other  occasions,  he  also  gave  proof 
of  his  insincerity  by  a  formal  compliance  with 
the  Mosaic  law.  He  had  his  head  shorn,  'for 
he  had  a  vow '  (Acts  18  :  18  ;)  he  desired  to 
have  Timotheus  accompany  him  on  a  mission, 
and  to  make  him  acceptable  to  the  Jews,  he 
with  his  own  hands  actually  circumcised  that 
disciple.  (Acts  16  :  3.) 


138 


EXETER    HALL. 


"  His  idea  of  the  social  state  was  absurd  ; 
his  bias  was  strong  against  marriage.  Though 
we  find  him  at  one  time  saying,  '  Marriage  is 
honorable  in  all,'  (Heb.  13  :  4,)  yet  he  repeat 
edly  insinuates  against  it.  '  For  I  (Paul)  would 
that  all  men  were  even  as  I  myself '  (unmarried.) 
(1  Cor.  7:7.)  'I  say,  therefore,  to  the  un 
married  and  widows,  it  is  good  for  them  if 
they  abide  even  as  I.'  (1  Cor.  7:8.)  '  Art 
thou  loosed  from  a  wife?  seek  not  a  wife.' 
(1  Cor.  8  :  27.)  On  this  question,  he  displays 
further  inconsistency  by  saying  that  a  widow 
was  '  at  liberty  to  be  married  to  whom  she 
will.'  (v.  39.)  Yet  he  declares  to  Timothy 
that  '  younger  widows,'  '  when  they  have  be 
gun  to  wax  wanton  against  Christ,  they  will 
marry,  having  damnation  because  they  have 
cast  off  their  first  faith.'  (1  Tim.  5  :  11,  12.) 
Such  reasoning  is  totally  indefensible. 

"  He  was  in  favor  of  caste.  '  Let  every  man 
abide  in  the  same  calling  wherein  he  was 
called.'  (1  Cor.  7  :  20.)  This  is  an  unwise 
check  to  all  commendable  ambition.  He 
•was  in  favor  of  servile  obedience  to  the  '  higher 
powers,'  asserting  that, '  the  powers  that  be  are 
ordained  of  God,'  concerning  which  nothing 
can  be  more  false  ;  all  experience  goes  to  estab 
lish  the  utter  rottenness  of  such  a  proposition. 
The  acceptance  of  such  a  sentiment  would  be 
the  degradation  of  liberty.  Despots  might 
rule 'by  the  grace  of  God,'  and  men  submit  to 
every  usurper!  No  wonder  that  the  first 
seven  verses  of  the  thirteenth  chapter  of  Ro 
mans  have  ever  been  texts  and  letters  of  gold 
to  secular  and  ecclesiastical  tyrants. 

"  Woman,  too,  he  would  keep  in  ancient 
slavish  submission  ;  in  this  respect,  he  adhered 
to  Jewish  ideas.  '  Let  your  women  keep 
silence  in  the  churches ;  for  it  is  not  permitted 
unto  them  to  speak,  but  they  are  commanded 
to  be  under  obedience.'  '  And  if  they  will 
learn  any  thing,  let  them  ask  their  husbands 
at  home  ;  for  it  is  a  shame  for  women  to  speak 
in  the  church.'  (1  Cor.  14  :  34,  35.)  '  Let  the 
women  learn  in  silence  with  all  subjection.' 
'But  I  suffer  not  a  woman  to  teach  nor  to 
usurp  authority  over  the  man,  but  to  be  in 
silence.'  (1  Tim.  2  :  10,  11.)  These  clerical 
dicta  were  based  on  what  he  wishes  the 
ladies  to  accept  as  sufficiently  profound 
reasons.  '  For  Adam  was  first  formed,  then 
Eve.'  '  And  Adam  was  not  deceived,  but  the 
woman,  being  deceived,  was  in  the  transgres 
sion.'  (!)  Yet  to  make  up  for  her  disqualifica 
tion  and  inferiority,  he  adds  a  word  of  comfort 
in  another  direction.  '  Notwithstanding,  she 
shall  be  saved  in  child-bearing,  if  they  con 
tinue  in  faith,  and  charity,  and  holiness,  and 
sobriety.'  (1  Tim.  2  : 13, 14, 15.)  The  connec 
tion,  however,  is  somewhat  bewildering. 

"  In  trivial  matters,  too,  he  presumes  to  gov 
ern  women,  and  issues  very  frivolous  com 
mands  as  to  how  they  should  even  dress  and 
wear  their  hair  ;  she  should  appear  in  '  modest 
apparel,  not  with  broidered  hair,  or  gold,  or 
pearls,  or  costly  array.'  (1  Tim.  2  :  9.)  She 
•hould  have  '  long  hair,'  but  should  not  pray 
with  her  head  '  uncovered.'  He  said,  '  But 
every  woman  that  prayeth  or  prophesieth 
with  her  head  uncovered  dishonoreth  her 
head  ;  for  that  is  even  all  one  as  if  she  were 
shaven.'  '  For  if  the  woman  be  not  covered, 


let  her  also  be  shorn ;  bat  if  it  be  a  shame  for 
a  woman  to  be  shorn  or  shaven,  let  her  bo 
covered.'  '  Judge  in  yourselves,  is  it  comely 
that  a  woman  pray  unto  God  uncovered  'I' 
(1  Cor.  11  -.  5,  6,  13.) 

"  Man,  however,  being  in  his  opinion  her 
superior,  was  more  privileged.  •  For  a  man 
indeed  oiight  not  to  cover  his  head,  forasmuch 
as  he  is  the  image  and  glory  of  God  ;  but  the 
woman  is  the  glory  of  the  man.'  '  For  the 
man  is  not  of  the  woman  ;  but  the  woman  of 
the  man.' '  Neither  was  the  man  created  for  the 
woman  ;  but  the  woman  for  the  man.'  '  For 
this  cause  ought  the  woman  to  have  power 
on  her  head  because  of  the  angels.'  (1  Cor. 
11  :  7,  8,  9,  10.)  This  verse  has  completely 
defied  the  ability  of  commentators.  What 
she  was  to  gain  by  the  '  power  on  her  head 
because  of  the  angels '  is  perhaps  wisely  in 
explicable  ;  and  like  the  meaning  of  many 
other  texts  will  be  made  known  when  it  can 
be  understood. 

"  Doth  not  even  nature  itself  teach  you  that 
if  a  man  have  long  hair  it  is  a  shame  unto 
him  T  '  But  if  a  woman  have  long  hair,  it 
is  a  glory  to  her ;  for  her  hair  is  given  her 
for  a  covering.'  (!)  (1  Cor.  10  :  14,  15.) 

"  A  popular  author  may  impose  a  silly  tale 
on  the  public,  and  it  will  be  read  with  de 
light  ;  while  a  far  superior  one  from  an  un 
known  writer  may  not  get  a  single  notice 
of  approval.  Doctors  of  divinity,  ministerial 
sages,  profound  theologians — all  of  thorn  emi 
nent  scholars,  burdened  with  the  lore  of 
distinguished  universities,  will  gravely  read 
these  priestly  absurdities  of  Paul,  and — must 
it  be  believed  1  actually  try  to  eclipse  each 
other  by  writing  enigmatical  comments  upon 
them ! 

"  Though  the  women  of  our  times,  the  most 
resolute  church  members,  seem  not  to  have 
yet  recognized  the  domineering  spirit  which 
dictated  such  commands  ;  and  though  women 
are  the  most  active  agents  to  promote  their 
circulation,  yet  as  to  these  mandates,  none — 
positively  none — will  obey  them.  They  are  a 
dead  letter  to  all ;  but  as  part  of  the  '  sacred 
word '  are  still  included  in  '  holy  writ,' 
and  disseminated  for  spiritual  edification ! 
And  were  a  Paul  or  an  Apollos  to  preach 
them  again  among  us,  our  mothers,  and  sis 
ters,  and  wives  would  spurn  the  idea  of  being1 
degraded  to  the  social  condition  of  the  women 
of  the  Bible. 

"Like  other  ecstatics,  Paul  professed  to 
have  received  communications  in  dreams  and 
visions ;  he  even  went  in  a  trance  as  far  as  the 
third  heaven  ;'  and  to  impress  all  with  the 
fullness  of  his  power,  undertook  to  perform 
miracles,  but  the  evidence  of  this  gift  de 
pends  upon  his  own  report  to  Luke.  He  waa 
'  crafty '  and  was,  as  has  been  shown,  willing 
to  practice  'guile'  to  gain  converts;  even 
were  a  falsehood  necessary  for  such  a  purpose, 
he  could  excuse  himself,  and  say,  '  For  if  the 
truth  of  God  hath  more  abounded  through 
my  lie  unto  his  glory,  why  yet  am  I  judged 
as  a  sinner  1'  (Rom.  8  :  7.)  He  was  high- 
minded  and  presumptuous,  and  said  lie  was 
not  a  whit  behind  the  very  chiefest ;'  he  was 
humble,  'less  than  the  least  of  all  saints.' 
He  was  vindictive,  and  could  curse  his  ene- 


EXETER    HALL. 


139 


oiies  ;  lie  could  assume  a  different,  character, 
and  say,  '  Bless  them  which  persecute  you ; 
bless  and  curse  not.'  (Horn.  12  :  14.)  He 
could  say,  '  For  there  is  no  respect  of  persons 
with  God.'  (Horn.  2  :  11.)  Yet  in  his  ninth 
chapter  to  the  Romans  is  to  be  found  the  main 
prop  of  predestination.  '  Therefore  hath  he 
mercy  on  whom  he  will  have  mercy,  and 
whom  he  will  he  hardened!.'  '  llath  not 
the  potter  power  over  the  clay  of  the  same 
lump  to  make  one  vessel  unto  honor  and 
another  unto  dishonor  T  (Rom.  9  :  18,  21.) 
He  wrote  to  the  Hebrews  that,  '  it  was  im 
possible  for  God  to  lie."  (Heb.  6  :  18.)  To  the 
Thessalonians,  he  declared  that  God  could 
delude  others  to  believe  a  lie.  (2  Thes.  2  :  11.) 

"  In  many  respects,  as  we  have  just  seen,  his 
precepts  were  contradictory  and  his  con 
duct  inconsistent  and  prevaricating.  It  would 
take  me  too  long  to  recount  other  instances 
in  which  he  appears  to  disadvantage.  I  would 
not,  Therefore,  consider  Paul  a  safe  guide  in 
morals  ;  and  in  my  opinion,  neither  David  nor 
Paul  was  as  well  qualified  to  teach  mankind 
as  were  many  of  the  ancient  philosophers  and 
moralists  who  never  even  heard  of  Moses  or  of 
Christ." 

There  was  a  pause,  Mr.  Baker  looked  as  fierce 
as  an  angry  inquisitor  ;  the  brethren  were  as 
tonished  at  the  boldness  of  Mr.  Capel ;  yet  his 
calm  declamation,  if  it  did  not  convince,  it  per 
plexed  ;  and  before  any  could  reply,  he  con 
tinued,  "  I  have  a  few  words  more  to  say,  and, 
if  not  trespassing  too  far,  would  like  to  make 
a  fuller  confession  of  my  reasons  for  leaving 
the  faith,  which  you  must  perceive  I  have  al 
ready  left.  To  be  plain,  I  do  not  consider  the 
Bible  the  inspired  '  word  of  God.'  I  have  la 
bored  in  vain  for  some  time  to  discover  who 
were  its  authors,  where  written,  in  what  lan 
guage,  and  at  what  time  ;  none  can  tell,  all 
is  Speculation.  Though  immense  expense 
has  been  incurred  in  the  circulation  of  that 
book  and  to  disseminate  its  doctrines,  yet 
Christianity  has  failed  to  attract  mankind  ;  its 
adherents  are  but  a  small  minority  compared 
with  the  whole.  I  do  not  believe  that  God  will 
punish,  the  great  majority  for  their  ignorance 
or  unbelief.  I  never  could  heartily  believe 
that  a  benevolent  Being,  who  made  man  so 
fallible,  would  inflict  an  eternity  of  torture 
upon  him  for  any  offense.  The  wrath  of  man 
may  exist  against  his  fellow  for  a  time,  even 
for  long,  long  years ;  but,  as  a  general 
rule,  if  no  counteracting  influences  are 
thrustupon  him,  nature  will  interfere,  and  the 
plea  which  he  oft  refused  to  hear  will  at  last 
bring  pity  and  forgiveness  ;  I  ask,  can  God  be 
less  than  man  in  this  sublime  virtue  1 

"  I  have  been  asked,  where  we  could  find  mo 
rality  or  civilization  without  Christianity'?  how 
it  could  be  replaced  1  Man  in  every  clime 
gets  his  morality  with  his  humanity — the 
source  of  his  love,  and  his  joy,  and  his  hope ; 
but  these  good  impulses  have  been  too  often 
controlled  and  misdirected  by  superstition. 
The  r.-ligion  of  the  Bible  never  yet  clung  to 
humanity  with  fidelity.  The  human  mind  con 
tains  within  itself  the  germs  of  goodness,  which 
will  generally  increase  with  intellectual 
growth  I  Morality  and  noble  virtues  were  as 
fully  developed  among  the  ancient  Greeks  and 


Romans  as  they  ever  have  been  since.  Chris 
tianity  is  not  progressive  ;  for  centuries  it  kept 
in  its  formal  track  ;  it  did  nothing  to  advance 
cotemporaneous  civilization  ;  Avhere  it  could 
not  repress  the  spirit  of  progressive  innovation, 
it  tardily  followed,  ana  then — as  it  still  doea 
— it  unblushingly  arrogated  the  victory.  * 

"  In  London  and  in  Rome,  in  Turkey  and  in 
Japan,  on  the  Ganges  and  on  the  Nile,  creeds 
are  widely  different ;  yet  priests  of  every  be 
lief  alike  demand,  '  How  can  you  replace  re 
ligion  ?'  I  answer,  by  the  diffusion  of  greater 
knowledge,  and  the  establishment  of  less  in 
equality  among  mankind.  Crime  exists  ;  it 
is  mostly  the  result  of  want  or  from  the 
dread  of  it.  Reduce  distress,  and  let  thero 
be  more  rational  information,  and  you  in 
crease  human  happiness  ;  this  can  be  done. 
The  blessed  task  will  remain  for  a  more  perfect 
and  paternal  form  of  government  than  man 
has  at  present ;  but  it  can  never  be  accom 
plished  by  any  form  of  religion. 

"  Man  must  be  led  to  advance  in  morality, 
first  out  of  a  regard  for  the  principle  itself,  next 
for  the  approbation  of  his  kind  ;  and  to  avoid 
the  inevitable  consequences  of  a  violation  of 
that  principle  which  are  sure  to  follow  in  this 
world,  not  because  of  the  dread  of  future 
punishment  '  beyond  the  grave.' 

"  My  friends,  I  feel  that  the  pursuit  of  truth  ia 
to  me  most  painful.  To  some  it  is  but  the 
work  of  a  moment  to  bend  to  conviction,  and 
reject  errors  as  soon  as  they  are  discovered  ; 
with  me  it  is  different,  I  yield  reluctantly, 
but  yield  I  must.  1  have  read  that  Bible  at  my 
mother's  knee  when  I  was  a  child,  and  heard 
with  pleasure  the  story  of  Joseph  and  his 
brethren,  of  Samson's  power  and  Solomon's 
wisdom.  I  read  of  these  in  the  full  belief  that 
all  was  true,  that  there  could  be  no  trace  of 
error  among  the  then  luminous  pages  of  that 
book  ;  with  what  regret  have  I  discovered  the 
mistake  \  I  must  soon  return  to  my  native 
[and,  but  I  can  not  pass  the  old  church  to 
where  my  mother  often  led  me,  where  I  wor 
shiped  as  a  child,  without  a  pang,  to  think 
that  I  can  worship  there  no  more.  The  Sab 
bath  bell  may  reach  my  ear  like  the  sound  of 
some  olden  melody,  but  its  influence  Avill  be 
one  forever.  And  when  I  visit  that  mother's 
ve  in  the  quiet  of  evening,  I  can  not  again 
read  tlie  text  upon  her  tomb  as  the  word  of 
inspiration.  None  can  tell  how  deeply  I  feel 
these  things  ;  it  is  hard  to  exclude  the  pleas 
ing  illusions  of  the  past,  but  truth  is  worthy 
of  every  sacrifice,  and  in  making  this  public 
acknowledgment  I  give  my  first  offering." 

"  Your  regrets  are  very  poetical,  and,  if  re 
port  is  true,  you  are  to  have  your  reward,  the 
price  of  your  apostasy.  Well,  well,  Mends," 
cried  Mr"  Baker,  "  such  a  blasphemous  tirade 
against  God's  blessed  apostle  1  never  before 
heard  \  I  am  even  now  surprised  that  I  could  sit 
and  listen  to  it  so  long.  It  is  a  miracle  that 
the  Almighty  did  not  hurl  a  special  shaft  of 
his  vengeance  against  him  that  uttered,  as 
well  as  against  us  that  could  allow  his  temple 
to  be  desecrated  by  such  dreadful  profanity  \ 
It  is  over,  I  hope ;  and  God's  mercy  to  us 
is  great  \  As  for  that  man,  let  him  go  hifl 

*  See  Note  H. 


140 


EXETER    HALL. 


downward  road  ;  we  will  not  curse  him,  out 
his  blood  be  upon  his  own  head  !'' 

"  I  do  not  know  to  what  reward  you  al 
lude,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "  but  I  well  know 
what  I  am  to  expect  from  the  church  for  my 
recreancy.  I  can  not  expect  any  more  indul 
gence  than  has  been  granted  to  others  who 
have  been  forced  to  submit  to  conviction.  I 
have  hidden  nothing  from  you ;  I  have  taken 
the  unpopular  side  ;  it  can  not  be  from  any 
sinister  motive.  As  there  is  a  charge  against 
my  character,  I  wish  to  hear  it ;  I  desire  to 
know  of  what  act  of  immorality  I  have  been 
guilty  ;  I  ask  what  is  to  be  the  reward  of  my 
apostasy  V" 

There  was  some  whispering  among  the 
brethren.  Mr.  Baker  was  very  pressing  with 
one  brother  to  get  up  and  speak  ;  it  was  Wes 
ley  Jacobs,  the  local  preacher,  and  he  seemed 
reluctant  to  comply  with  the  urgency  of  the 
superintendent,  who  now  looked  as  if  in  no  very 
gracious  mood.  Old  Father  White  sat  aside 
by  himself,  and  he  viewed  the  young  man,  the 
late  junior  preacher,  with  an  expression  of  pity. 
"  I  hope  no  person  will  hesitate  to  accuse 
me  of  what  I  am  thought  guilty  ;  I  am  here 
to  answer,  and  I  again  ask,  What  has  been 
my  immorality,  and  what  is  to  be  my  re 
ward?" 

Mr.  Baker  sprang  up  quite  irritated,  and 
almost  shouted,  "  You  have  been  seen  drunk 
with  a  popish  priest  in  a  tavern — that's  the 
immorality  ;  and  the  reward  you  expect  for 
your  shameful  desertion  of  the  faith  is  an  al 
liance  with  the  daughter  of  that  arch-fiend, 
Martin  Mannors!" 

These  words,  uttered  quickly  by  the  angry 
preacher,  took  almost  all  present  by  surprise  ; 
the  cat  was  let  out  of  the  bag ;  a  burning 
blush  mounted  to  Mr.  Capel's  cheek  ;  and  the 
ancient  spinster,  who  had  pertinaciously  re 
mained,  gave  a  little  scream  ;  but  whether  it 
was  caused  by  the  abrupt  accusation,  or  from 
a  fright  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  a  fierce- 
looking  man,  who  rushed  from  a  back  seat  close 
to  her  side,  is  not  certain.  The  man  at  once 
raised  his  rough  fist,  and  cried  out  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  over  the  whole  place, 
"  That's  another  hypocritical  lie — it  is !"  This 
unexpected  Interruption  caused  great  confu 
sion.  Some  of  the  brethren  were  for  laying 
hands  on  the  intruder ;  but  when  they  found 
he  was  not  a  maudlin  wanderer,  they  pru 
dently  refrained.  Mr.  Baker,  however,  vio 
lently  demanded  that  constables  should  be 
sent  for.  "  This  is  the  second  time  that  that 
man  lias  been  sent  here  to  disturb  a  religious 
meeting.  I  say,  let  him  be  arrested." 

"  That's  anotlier  of  your  lies,  it  is.  Ha !  ha  I 
you  call  this  a  religious  meeting !  The  last 
time  I  was  here  it  was  a  bedlam,  and  now  it's 
a  shabby  police-court — just  that.  Stand  off 
iny  man,"  said  Robert  to  one  of  the  brethren 
who  was  approaching  him,  "  stand  off ;  if  you 
come  any  closer,  I'll — yes,  I  will !  so  keep  off." 
The  brethren,  rightly  judging  that  he  would 
be  perhaps  as  good  as  his  word,  were  afraid 
that  a  very  discreditable  scene  might  be 
enacted  in  the  house  of  God.  Mr.  Capel  very 
fortunately  interfered  ;  he  called  the  man 
aside,  and  prevailed  upon  him  to  leave  the 
place.  Robert,  -vho  had  a  great  regard  for  Mr. 


Capel,  was,  like  others,  anxious  to  hear  what 

charges  were  to  be  brought  against  him  ;  he 

i  was  indignant  when  he  heard  Mr.  Mannors 

spoken  of  so  disrespectfully.     When  he  left 

the  church,  at  Mr.  Capel's  bidding,  he  was 

!  very  much  inclined  to  believe  that  Mr.  Baker 

and  many  of  the  saints  at  Hampstead  were 

I  occasionally  influenced  by  a  spiritual  poten- 

j  tate  to  whom  no  good  Christian  would  daro 

to  offer  up  a  prayer. 

Order  being  in  a  manner  restored,  brother 
Wesley  Jacobs,  the  local  preacher,  after  some 
pressing,  said  that,  having  heard  that  one  or 
two  members  of  his  class  were  in  the  habit  of 
visiting  the  Red  Lion  tavern  for  the  purpose 
of  hearing  religious  discussions,  as  well  as  to 
read  skeptical  books,  against  which  he  had 
often  cautioned,  he  went  there  one  evening, 
and,  to  his  surprise,  among  others,  saw  Mr. 
Capel  sitting  at  a  table  with  a  strauger  who 
did  not  appear  to  be  in  his  sober  senses. 
Upon  inquiry,  he  found  that  the  stranger  was 
a  Catholic  priest.  There  was  a  bottle  on  the 
table,  and  each  had  a  tumbler  before  him 
which  he  believed  contained  intoxicating 
liquor.  He  might  have  been  mistaken,  but 
he  thought  that  Mr.  Capel  acted  rather 
strangely  —  unlike  his  ordinary  way.  "  In 
deed,"  said  Mr.  Jacobs,  assuming  to  be  rather 
scrupulous,  "  I'm  sure  I  can  not  say  whether 
he  was  —  "  "  Oh  !  it's  no  matter — 'tis  .quite 
sufficient,"  struck  in  Mr.  Baker.  "  Friends, 
you  see  that  brother  Jacobs  is  over-cautious  ; 
but  he  has  told  us  enough — or  rather  he  has 
privately  told  me  enough.  Just  think  of  find 
ing  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel  sitting  in  a  low 
tavern,  side  by  side  with  a  popish  priest, 
and  not,  as  I  have  discovered,  one  of  the  most 
abstemious  !  To  make  a  companion  of  an  or 
dained  agent  of  the  man  of  sin,  even  if  he 
were  as  sober  as  Father  Mathew,  would  be 
bad  enough  ;  but  to  be  on  intimate  terms  with 
one  whose  propensities  are  notorious,  what  is 
the  inference  ?" 

"  This,  then,  I  am  to  understand  as  my  act 
of  immorality.  Well,  I  was  present  at  the 
time  and  place  mentioned  by  Mr.  Jacobs  ;  and, 
were  it  of  any  avail  to  bring  witnesses  here, 
I  could  prove  that  neither  1  nor  the  gentle 
man  mentioned  was  in  any  worse  state  than 
I  am  at  present  ;  but  where  charity  is  want 
ing,  evidence  will  have  little  effect.  I  had 
been  out  in  the  country  all  that  day  with  the 
Rev.  Mr  McGlinn,  and  accepted  his  invitation 
to  take  dinner,  on  our  return,  at  the  Red 
Lion  ;  when  there,  we  partook  of  nothing 
stronger  than  ale.  If  this  act  is  sufficient  to 
justify  the  charge,  then  I  am  guilty.  As  a 
matter  of  duty  to  myself  and  to  others,  I  have 
attended  here  in  obedience  to  your  summons. 
I  shall  not  reply  to  the  offensive  liberty  taken 
as  to  my  motives  for  disbelief.  If  Mr.  Baker 
can  conscientiously  sustain  the  course  he  has 
pursued  toward  me  and  others,  then  I  can  not 
expect  strict  justice  before  his  tribunal.  1  shall 
make  no  appeal  against  any  decision  he  may 
recommend,  but  will  now  retire." 

Just  as  he  got  outside  the  door,  Father 
White,  who  followed  him,  seized  his  hand, 
and,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  said,  "  Well, 
brother,  you,  I  suppose,  leave  us  forever  ;  I 
can  not  think  that  you  are  wil'fnl  in  opposing 


EXETER     HALL. 


141 


an  ancient  creea  ,  \ou  believe  you  are  right, 
I  am  sure  you  do."  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  ground,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment,  as 
if  troubled,  by  some  rebellious  thought,  and 
then,  almost  in  a  whisper,  added,  "  You  may 
be  right,  but  it  is  too  late  for  me  now  to  think 
of  these  things !  For  long  years  I  have  made 
religion  my  staff,  my  hope,  and  my  light.  I 
may  linger  here  a  few  more  winters,  but  I  can 
not,  at.  the  eleventh  hour,  give  up  the  lamp  I 
have  held  so  long  ;  and  though  its  light  may 
appear  feeble  to  you,  I  must  now  bear  it  with 
me  to  the  grave." 

Among  the  records  made  nt  the  quarterly 
meeting  that  evening,  there  was  one  to  show 
that  Henry  Capel,  late  junior  preacher  on  the 
Ilampsfead  circuit,  was  expelled  from  the 
membership  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodist 
Church  for  "  Immorality,"  and  this  was  at 
tested  by  the  rough,  cramped  signature  of 
"  James  Baker,  Chairman." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  autumn  had  passed  away,  and  the  fee 
ble  ray  of  an  evening  sunlight  in  November 
rested  upon  the  window  near  which  Mary 
Mannors  was  sitting.  She  had  been  engaged 
for  some  time  making  alterations  in  a  drjss, 
and  the  heavy  folds  of  crape  which  wore 
added  gave  no  token  of  returning  cheerfulness. 
There  was  no  formal  or  conventional  "  put 
ting  on"  of  that  which  she  did  not  feel ;  her 
deep  black  raiment  truly  indicated  the  grief 
which  was  around  her  own  heart. 

As  the,  light  grew  less,  she  ceased  her  work, 
and  looked  up  at  the  cold,  gray  sky,  and  at 
the  shadows  which  were  stretching  over  the 
distant  hills,  and  over  the  bare,  brown  fields, 
and  bending  down  as  if  to  rest  and  remain 
over  the  dim  city.  It  was  from  this  very  win 
dow  that,  some  months  before,  her  mother 
was  awed  by  the  appearance  of  the  shining 
cross ;  and  now,  as  Mary  looked  in  the  direc 
tion  of  St.  Paul's,  she  could  just  distinguish 
the  same  object,  faintly  brightened  by  the 
waning  sunset. 

Alas!  what  a  reverie  that  glimpse  brought 
her  1  Every  phase  of  her  mother's  mind, 
every  illusion,  every  event,  culminating 
in  insanity  and  in  death — a  grave  in  Hamp- 
stt-ad  cemetery,  and  a  prison  asylum,  per 
haps  for  life  !  She  looked  care-worn  and  pale, 
as  if  the  trials  of  years  had  been  crowdo  i 
into  months.  Tiie  c  >ursn  of  her  lite  had 
bsjen  aim  >st  completely  altered  ;  she  had  new 
duties  to  perform,  whicli  she  undertook  cheer 
fully  ;  she  could  IK;  reconciled  to  the  sad  be 
reavement  and  affliction,  but  the  scandal  which 
had  b^-en  uttered  against  her  father,  and  the 
uncharitable  insinuations  of  the  pharisaical 
grieved  her  sorely.  Her  mother  had  been 
for  some  time  in  a  private  asylum  ;  in  her  case, 
alas!  there  was  no  room  for  hope;  the  best 
advice  in  London  had  been  obtained,  but  no 
skill  could  induce  any  improvement. 

Well,  among  other  passing  thoughts — al 
ternate  vistas  of  the  memory,  dark  and  bright 
— it  was  possible,  or  rather  probable,  that  she 
•hould  think  of  Mr.  Capel,  he  who  had  been 


with  them  for  so  many  months.  Ah  me  !  for 
how  many  pleasant  days — whose  stay  had 
been  so  agreeable;  who  had  been  so  like  a 
brother ;  and  whose  good,  kind,  generous 
disposition  had  so  won  the  esteem  of  those 
who  knew  him  best.  She  did  think  of  him; 
she  was  aware  of  his  change  of  opinion,  of 
his  expulsion,  and  of  the  discreditable  at 
tempts  made  to  injure  his  reputation  and  af 
fect  his  prospects  for  life.  She  knew  of  these, 
and,  could  he  learn  the  great  depth  of  her 
sympathy  for  him,  how  cheerfully  he  would 
have  borne  every  reproach,  and  braved  every 
enmity  to  live  and  gain  her  favor.  But 
there  was  another  reason  why  her  thoughts 
now  reverted  to  him — she  was  even  troubled — 
he  was  soon  going  to  return  to  Ireland,  to 
leave  them,  perhaps,  forever.  He  had  too  much 
spirit  to  remain  any  longer  like  a  depen 
dent  upon  her  father,  more  particularly  as  the 
busy  tongues  of  Mr.  Baker  and  some  of  the 
brethren  had  attributed  his  change  of  faith 
as  well  as  his  protracted  stay  at  llampstead 
cottage  to  a  certain  motive.  For  this  reason 
he  had  left  the  residence  of  Mr.  Mannors,  and 
since  his  almost  ex-parte  trial  had  been  stay 
ing  with  his  friend,  Father  McUlinn  ;  under 
such  peculiar  circumstances,  it  would  not, 
therefore,  be  prudent  to  press  him  to  remain 
at  Hampstead. 

Mary  might  not  have  been  told  all  this,  but 
she  suspected  something  of  the  kind  and  she 
appreciated  his  delicate  consideration.  She 
believed  he  was  poor ;  she  knew  he  had  no 
profession,  trade,  or  occupation — perhaps  no 
well-to-do  relatives  willing  to  aid  him  ;  and, 
in  imagination,  she  followed  him  from  place  to 
place  in  his  wanderings  fora  position  of  some 
kind;  she  knew  how  soon  an  evil  word  would 
bear  against  him.  The  Watchman,  the  Metho 
dist  organ,  had  already  given  its  warning  to 
the  faithful ;  she  knew  he  would  have  the  scorn 
and  rebuke  of  the  godly  and  the  suspicion  of 
the  formalist.  She  fancied  him  buffeted 
about  by  misfortune — poor,  and  friendless, 
and  hopeless — until  at  last  he  sunk  in  despair, 
i,u-  ting  the  fate  of  a  thousand  others.  She 
then  wondered,  as  she  often  did  before,  why 
she  should  be  s:>  troubled  about  a  comparative 
stranger;  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of 
making  him  one,  she  could  not  look  upon 
him  as  such  ;  she,  as  yet,  scarcely  understood 
her  own  feelings  toward  him,  though  they 
were  a  fresh  cause  of  anxiety  ;  yet,  s  ich  aa 
they  were,  she  felt  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  their 
indulgence;  and  now  she  S;it  considering  how 
she  could  be  of  benefit  to  him,  how  she,  jioor 
thing!  unskilled  in  the  rough  matters  of  life, 
could  advatice  his  future  prospects;  she  did 
not  want  to  see,  him  borne  out  into  the  great 
contending  crowd,  and  p»ss  away  forever. 

By  what  means  could  she  introduce  the 
subject  to  her  father  ?  What  a  relief  it  would 
be  could  she  speak  her  m!n.l  to  him  fully  and 
freely  as  in  other  matters,  and  tell  him  of  her 
fears,  and  of  the  mountain  of  pious  prejudice 
that  would  lie  in  the  wanderer's  way.  How 
could  she  enlist  him  to  act  in  behalf  of  that 
young  man  ?  But  alas !  she  could  not  frame 
the  m  ist  simple  speech  for  her  father's  ear ;  she 
could  find  ready  words  for  any  one  else,  for  the 
greatest  stranger,  but  not  for  Henry  Capel— 


142 


EXETER     HALL. 


why  not  for  liim?  To  find  a  proper  answer 
for  her  own  plain  query  caused  her  great  em 
barrassment. 

Mr.  Manners  might  have  thought  of  the 
future  prospects  of  his  young  friend,  and  most 
probably  did.  He  was  one  of  those  who  nat 
urally  anticipated  the  wants  of  others,  and 
tried  to  provide  for  them  ;  he  was  among  the 
least  selfish  of  the  earth. 

He  perhaps  knew  that  Mr.  Capel  had  no  re 
sources,  and  he  might  have  laid  some  plan  for 
his  advantage  ;  but  any  thing  he  did.  or  inten 
ded  to  do,  in  this  respect,  he  kept  entirely  to 
himself.  Though  his  affliction  was  heavy, 
and  though  the  tongue  of  scandal  was  busy, 
yet  his  old  cheerful  manner  remained ;  and 
lie  tried  to  lighten  the  burden  of  others,  hid 
ing  the  care  which  was  so  weighty  to  himself. 
As  for  Mary,  no  daughter  could  have  been 
more  dutiful  or  affectionate  ;  his  first  desire 
was  to  promote  her  happiness,  and,  as  she  was 
all  now  to  him,  he  was  determined  to  do  every 
thing  in  his  power  to  make  her  future  as 
bright  and  as  free  from  the  bleak  shadows  of 
adversity  as  possible. 

Mr.  Manners  had  the  faculty  of  judging  cha 
racter  almost  at  a  glance.  In  an  inquiry,  he 
fixed  his  mild  gray  eye  upon  you,  and  if  there 
was  any  wavering  from  strict  integrity,  if 
there  was  any  lurking  deceit,  he  knew  it  at 
once.  It  would  be  very  difficult  for  one  who 
was  a  pretender  to  escape  detection  at  his 
hands.  Now,  Mr.  Capel  had  been  as  one  of 
his  family  for  several  months,  and  from  the 
first  hour  that  he  entered  the  cottage,  Mr. 
Mannors  was  impressed  in  his  favor  as  being 
worthy  of  all  confidence ;  and,  day  after  day, 
as  the  character  and  disposition  of  the  young 
preacher  became  more  developed,  to  much  the 
more  was  that  confidence  in  him  established. 
Indeed,  it  was  one  of  Mrs.  Mannors's  peculiar 
enjoyments  to  hear  her  husband  commend  a 
minister  ot  the  Gospel  as  he  did  Mr.  Capel ; 
and  every  one  in  Hampstead  cottage  seemed 
to  anticipate  with  pleasure  his  return  from 
the  circuit.  Such  regard  did  not  escape  the 
observation  of  Mr.  Mannors ;  and  he  rightly 
judged  that  one  so  gentle  and  confiding,  yet 
so  discriminating  as  his  daughter,  could  not 
be  less  appreciative.  He  was  a  close  obser 
ver,  and  for  some  time  he  noticed  symptoms, 
the  least  of  which,  he  thought,  indicated  that 
deep  down  in  poor  Mary's  heart  there  was  a 
feeling  which  she  tried  to  hide  even  from  her 
self  and  from  all  others  ;  but  of  this  he  was 
determined  to  be  more  fully  assured. 

"  Well,  Mary,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  entering 
1h«  dusky  room,  "so  we  are  going  to  lose  Mr. 
Capel ;  1  have  just  come  in  to  say  that  he  will 
call  here  to-morrow  to  bid  us  adieu.  How 
eorry  I  am  for  this  1  I  was  very  much  pleased 
with  his  society,  and  few  indeed  will  miss 
him  as  I  shall.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  going 
at  once  to  Ireland.  I  question  much  if  he 
well  knows  what  he  is  going  there  for ;  how 
ever,  it  seems  best  to  him,  and  though  we 
may  never  see  him  again,  I  shall  always 
remember  him  as  deserving  of  my  highest  re 
gard.  I  am  sure  we  shall  all  regret  his  depar 
ture.  I  had  hopes  that  the  pleasing  acquaint 
ance  we  had  formed  would  bave  continued  for 
years  ;  what  a  pity  that  our  intimacy  should 


be  so  short !  Thus  it  is,  Pop ;  they  will  leave 
us  one  by  one ;  one  to-day  and  another  to- 
morrow,  and  you  and  I  are  to  be  left  alone." 

How  fortunate  it  was  for  her  that  the  dim 
light  prevented  her  father  from  observing  the 
sudden  pallor  that  blanched  her  check  and 
brow !  She  could  have  fallen,  but  made  a 
powerful  effort  to  cling  to  the  chair  ;  as  for 
words,  she  could  find  no  utterance — the  effort 
to  articulate  seemed  to  chcke  her.  What 
would  she  not  have  then  given  to  Le 
alone  ? 

"  How  cold  your  forehead  is,  child  ;  and  so 
are  your  cheeks."  He  passed  his  hand  tender 
ly  over  her  face  and  head,  and  she  shrunk  back 
at  the  touch.  "  Why,  you  almost  tremble  ! 
Mary,  you  must,  I  fear,  be  ill." 

She  could  just  reply,  "Indeed,  pa,  I  feel 
quite  well,  only  perhaps  a  little  chilly.  Don't 
you  find  the  room  very  cold  V"  and  she  moved 
away  from  the  open  door. 

"  No,  not  particularly  so  ;  not  for  me,  at  least. 
You  have  been  too  much  confined  lately  ;  after 
this,  we  must  walk  or  drive  out  oftener.  Since 
Mr.  Capel  lett  the  house,  you  have  been  out 
very  seldom.  I  have,  1  fear,  been  too  negli 
gent  ;  but  I  will  take  you  again  over  some  of 
his  favorite  drives ;  it  will  renew  him  in  our 
memory — at  least  it  will  in  mine — when  he  is 
far  away,  poor  fellow !" 

That  sad  heart  was  again  fluttering,  beat 
ing,  bounding,  but  it  would  not  do  for  Mary 
to  be  silent ;  oh !  what  a  struggle  to  appear 
calm  ;  her  mute  anguish  could  have  been  elo 
quent  in  tears,  but  she  dare  not  weep,  she 
must  now  speak.  "  He  leaves  to-morrow,  then, 
does  he,  pa  '!"  said  she,  trying  to  assume  a  tone 
of  indifference.  "  Well,  I'm  sure  we  shall  all 
be  very  sorry.  He  may  not  be  back  again,  you 
think  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  he  ever  expects  to  re 
turn  ;  he  has  no  tie  here ;  save  our  sympathy, 
he  can  have  no  inducement  to  remain.  The 
Methodists  are  now  his  bitter  enemies,  and 
you  know  the  slander  of  the  godly  is  the  most 
defamatory.  He  may,  perhaps,  think  of  going 
to  America  or  to  Australia,  to  any  place  where 
he  may  not  be  known  as  an  apostate  preacher. 
What  a  shame  that  he  should  be  driven,  for 
conscience'  sake,  like  an  Ishmael,  away  from 
home  and  fnends  ;  but  alas  I  he  has  no  home, 
and  where  are  his  friends?" 

"  Neither  home  nor  friends !  that  is  very 
sad,  pa,"  said  she,  with  tremulous  voice.  She 
could  hnrdly  control  her  feelings;  she  would 
have  gladly  rushed  into  her  father's  arms,  and 
have  wept  and  pleaded  for  the  dear  friend 
who  was  about  to  be  cast  out  upon  the  world  ; 
but  that  dreadful,  unnatural  restraint  kept 
her  back,  that  uncontrollable  influence  which 
would  now  make  her  appear  so  different  from 
what  she  really  WHS  ;  she  still  sat  like  a  statue, 
merely  repeating  the  bleak  monosyllables. 
"  No  home  nor  friends !" 

"  Well,  child,  he  is  still  young,  and,  though 
going  out  alone  upon  the  stormy  sea  of  life, 
like  a  bark  into  a  tempest,  he  may  yet  reach 
some  favored  port,  and  find  those  who  may 
learn  to  esteem  him.  I  have  no  doubt  of  his 
success ;  it  will  be  gratifying  to  hear  of  this. 
We  shall  see  him  to-morrow,  and  learn  more 
of  his  intentions."  And  Mr.  Mannors,  having 


EXETER    HALL. 


145 


gome  business  to  transact,  kissed  his  daughter's 
forehead,  and  bid  her  good-night. 

Wlien  he  entered  his  own  room,  he  paced  it 
backward  and  for  ward  for  some  time,  in  deep 
thought ;  he  then  sat  at  his  desk  and  drew 
from  it  a  parchment,  which  he  carefully  read 
over ;  afterward  he  wrote  two  or  three  long 
letters,  and  then  retired. 

Poor  Mary,  left  alone,  sat  for  hours  at  the 
window;  watching  the  glimmer  of  distant 
lights  and  looking  up  at  the  great  black 
night-clouds,  moving  slowly  over  the  leafless 
trees.  Slie  listened  to  every  sound,  as  if  an 
ticipating  some  farewell  step  passing  through 
the  garden  ;  and  then,  with  her  face  almost 
touching  the  glass,  she  peered  out  into  the 
darkness,  like  one  watching  for  a  brigl.it  star 
w  cheer  the  rayless  night.  Like  her  father, 
she  delighted  in  thinking  and  suggesting  for 
the  good  of  others ;  but  now  she  was  unable 
to  shape  any  idea  lot  the  benefit  of  him  she 
was  so  anxious  to  serve ;  and,  totally  failing 
in  this,  she,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  began  to  think  of  her  own  future. 

The  cruel  morning  came  at  last ;  a  cold, 
drizzling  rain  had  set  in  for  some  time,  and  the 
melancholy  season  imparted  deeper  gloom  to 
every  thing  in  and  around  llampstead.  Tiie 
old  clock  in  the  church  tower  struck  the  hours, 
and  the  sound  rt-ached  the  ear  like  a  distant 
wail — not  like  the  full,  clear,  ringing  tone  it 
often  gave  in  happier  days.  The  trees  in  the 
small  park  stood  up  like  a  long  row  of  silent 
mourners  awaiting  a  great  funeral,  and  an 
air  of  sadness  seemed  to  pervade  all.  Even 
the  very  children  who  ventured  to  rush  out 
into  the  splashy,  guttered  highways  were 
discouraged  from  play  by  the  chill,  dreary 
hky,  and  ran  back  again  to  the  more  cheerful 
iireside. 

Mr.  Mannors  awaited  his  expected  friend  ; 
he  sat  in  the  parlor  lookiug  over  the  morning 
paper,  and  Mary,  Avith.  pale  face  and  beating 
heart,  went  briskly  from  room  to  room,  bust 
ling  about  as  if  she  had  scarcely  a  minute  to  sit 
and  think  of  any  thing  in  particular.  Hannah , 
who  had  been  for  some  time  on  the  look-out 
for  the  visitor,  was  rather  surprised  at  her 
unusual  diligence  ;  and  as  Mary  occasionally 
passed  her  lather,  he  would  raise  his  eyes  from 
the  paper,  and  look  thoughtfully  after  her,  as  if 
.11  doubt  of  his  own  penetration. 

About  eleven  o'clock  a  carriage  drove  up 
to  the  gate ;  a  small  trunk  was  fastened  be- 
lund,  and  two  persons  alighted.  Robert,  who 
was  in  waiting,  warmly  shook  Mr.  Capel's 
proffered  hand,  and  bowed  to  the  Kev.  Mr. 
MctHinn,  as  he  followed  his  friend  toward 
the  house.  Mr.  Mannors  received  them  both 
at  the  door  ;  and  Mary  quickly  left  the  room, 
in  the  hope  of  being  able  to  get  a  moment  or 
two  to  compose  hers  If,  and  to  try  and  wear 
a  look  the  very  opposite  of  what  she  felt. 

"  Well,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  McGlinn,  "you 
see  I  have  brought  the  truant  back  again. 
I  suppose,"  said  he,  looking  archly  at  Mr.  Ca- 
j>el,  "  that  he  would  have  been  inclined  to  take 
French  leave,  if  1  had  not  kept  my  eye  on  him. 
I  know  he  hates  leave-taking,  and  for  some 
reason,  he,  I  think,  particularly  disliked  to 
pay  such  a  pro  forma  visit  here.  You  see 
nothing  will  do  him  but  '  go  back,'  as  the 


Irish  say,  to  the  '  ould  sod,'  and  show  his  \.\ 
ing  countrymen  the>S'«/i  Beuitu  which  FaMw 
Baker,  one  of  the  Wesleyan  popes,  has  thrown 
upon  his  shoulders.  Faith,  such  an  invest 
ment  has  the  sanction  of  my  church,  any 
how ;  the  good  ould  Christian  way  of  decora 
tion,  so  as  a  heretic  migiit  look  a  little  more 
decent  on  his  high-road  to  the— well,  I  won't 
say  what  in  polite  company.  'Twas  a  bless 
ing  in  disguise,  i  suppose ;  ha,  ha  !  much  good 
may  it  do  you,  Harry,  any  way  ! ' 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Capel,  "  I  could  never 
think  of  leaving  England  without  calling  here 
to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  one  of  the 
kindest  friends  I  ever  met.  1  can  truly  say 
that  the  period  of  my  stay  at  Hampatead  has 
been  one  of  the  most  agreeable  of  my  life — one 
that  1  shall  forever  remember,  with  pleasure." 

"  Now  don't  say  any  thing  about  obliga 
tions,"  said  Mr.  Mannors,  "  or  you  will  make 
me  your  debtor.  Mary,"  said  he,  as  his  daugh 
ter  entered  the  room,  "  here  is  Mr.  Capel,  ac 
tually  come  to  bid  us  farewell.  I  am  sorry, 
very  sorry  for  this  ;  I  wish  we  could  keep  him 
longer,  for  it  may  be  some  time  before  we  all 
meet  again." 

Mr.  Capel's  cheek  was  flushed  as  he  looked 
at  Mary  ;  he  was  surprised  at  the  change  ;  he 
had  not  seen  her  for  several  days,  and  now  he 
perceived  a  sad  alteration. 

She  was  dressed  in  deep  black  ;  there  was 
an  expression  of  care  upon  her  pale  face 
which  he  had  never  noticed  before.  The  de 
light, ul  vivacity  of  her  nature  had  given 
way,  aud  traces  of  subdued  grief  were  still 
apparent  in  her  sweet  submission.  She  sat 
near  him  on  tae  sola,  and  while  her  father  and 
the  kind  priest  held  a  conversation,  she  ven 
tured  to  tell  Mr.  Capel  that  siie  hoped  he 
would  enjoy  himself  in  Ireland  ;  she  supposed 
he  had  friends  there  whom  he  was  anxious  to 
meet  alter  so  long  a  separation. 

"  If  you  mean  relatives,  Miss  Mannors,  I 
really  can  not  say  whether  I  shall  find  any 
now  willing  to  acknowledge  me.  I  know  of 
none  who  wish  my  return  ;  they  are,  any  that 
I  know  of,  strict  church  members.  I  am  un 
der  a  bun.  I  would  like  to  see  my  native  city ; 
but  I  never  shall  forget  Hainpstead  and  the 
few  friends  I  leave  behind." 

She  would  have  liked  to  hint  that  there 
migiit  be  other  friends.  Some  particular  one, 
pernaps,  whose  attractive  power  could  hurry 
him  away  even  from  his  good  friend  the 
priest,  but  she  could  not  trust  herself  with 
Words.  There  was  no  way  in  which  she  could 
venture  to  communicate  any  of  the  thoughts 
which  disturbed  her,  or  make  herself  under 
stood.  The  embarrassment  in  this  respect 
was  mutual ;  and  after  talking,  as  it  wero,  m 
a  circle  for  some  time  upon  indifferent  mat 
ters — as  remo>e  as  possible  from  the  subject 
nearest  the  heart  —  there  was  an  unpleas 
ant  pause,  and  either  would  have  given  a 
world  to  be  able  to  make  the  least  revelation 
or  to  obtain  one  word  of  encouragement.  But 
the  golden  moments  flew  by  ;  though  each  at 
the  tune  considered  them  as  moments  of  des 
tiny,  they  were  allowed  to  pass  without  im 
provement,  and  inexorable  fate  seemed  to 
have  fixed  an  eternal  seal  upon  their  separa 
tion. 


144 


EXETER    HALL. 


"Time  is  nearly  up,  Harry,"  said  Father 
M'Glinn — he  often  used  this  familiarity,  and 
called  him  Harry — "  time  is  nearly  up ;  the 
Cork  packet  starts  at  six ;  we  have  yet  to  drive 
to  the  city,  and  to  call  upon  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry  ;  and,  even  if  we  spend  but  half  an  hour 
vvitli  each,  it  will  give  me  little  enough  time 
afterward  to  exorcise  you  and  give  you  the 
benefit  of  my  poor  blessing.  Friend  Baker, 
you  know,"  said  he,  turning  to  Mr.  Mannors, 
"  says  that  Harry  is  possessed.  Ha !  ha !" 

"  Possessed  of  more  charity,  no  doubt,"  said 
Mr.  Mannors.  "  Well,  he  leaves  Hampstead, 
and  we  all  regret  it ;  don't  we,  Pop  ?  But 
he  leaves  the  limited  round  he  lately  traveled 
for  that  far  more  extensive  circuit — the  wide 
world.  I  trust  he  will  henceforth  preach 
the  common  brotherhood  of  all  nations,  and 
the  great  gospel  of  humanity;" 

"  Faith,  that  is  the  real  true  gospel — you 
have  me  with  you  there !  It  is  the  one  I  best 
understand ;  it  requires  no  learned  commen 
tators  to  make  it  plain.  There  are  no  sects  in 
humanity,  no  mercenary  piety,  nor  heartless 
inquisitors.  It  is  the  great  creed  for  all  man 
kind  !  What  a  change  that  gospel  will  bring ! 
Do  not  look  surprised  ;  Harry  knows  that  I  am 
in  a  strait,  but  I  am  not  the  only  ecclesiastic 
that  is  prepared  to  stand  uncovered  before  the 
altar  of  reason.  Yes,  I  am  in  a  singular  po 
sition  ;  but  I  will  soon  have  my  liberty.  The 
dawn  is  coming,  and  we  shall  soon  be  sur 
prised  at  the  multitudes  who  will  move  out 
into  the  sunlight ;  thousands  who  now  tim 
idly  hide  within  the  shadow  of  superstition 
long  to  see  that  day.  When  that  pure  gospel 
shall  have  been  preached,  we  will  have  moral 
ity  without  creeds,  reform  without  cruelty, 
national  amity  without  threats  ;  the  priest, 
and  the  soldier,  and  the  executioner  must  dis 
appear  with  other  concomitants  of  Christian 
civilization.  You  must,"  said  he,  addressing 
Mr.  Capel,  "  go  on  and  not  be  easily  discour 
aged.  He  who  attempts  to  reform  an  abuse 
must  expect  calumny.  If  you  attack  an  anti 
quated  imposition,  you  are  sure  to  be  waylaid 
by  the  prejudiced  and  interested.  They  who 
love  truth — not  they  who  live  godly — must 
suffer  persecution.  Take  courage,  and  let 
your  light  shine,  for  even  now  there  is  a 
growing  principle  that  will  uphold  the  right." 

Mr.  Mannors  then  handed  him  a  email 
package  which  he  said  contained  one  or  two 
l.-tters  of  introduction  to  old  friends  in  Ireland, 
and  a  few  words  of  advice  from  himself,  which 
he  was  to  read  upon  his  arrival  in  that  coun 
try. 

The  parting  glass  of  wine  was  then  taken, 
and  tears  rushed  into  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Mannors 
as  lie  took  his  friend's  hand  to  assure  him  of 
nis  unalterable  friendship.  Father  Tom  had 
i, •>  cough  and  strut  smartly  about  to  hide  his 
emotion  ;  and  Mr.  Capel,  as  he  looked  out 
upon  the  gsirden-walks,  and  around  the  fami 
liar  walls,  and  then  upon  Mary's  pale  face,  it 
might  be,  lie  thought,  for  the  last  time,  felt 
his  heart  almost  give  way,  and  he  had  to  hur 
ry  out  of  the  house  somewhat  abruptly  to  es 
cape  an  uuer  breaking  down. 

in  the  hall  stood  Robert  and  the  good  Han 
nah,  holding  her  apron  to  her  eyes;  and 
Flounce  sat  thoughtfully  by  her  side,  perhaps 


thinking  of  his  young  master  who  but  a 
short  time  before  had  left  them  forever. 

All  assembled  to  bid  Mr.  Capel  a  kind  fare- 
well ;  even  the  old  clock,  near  the  door,  ap 
peared  in  waiting  like  an  ancient  retainer,  its 
pendulum  swinging  to  and  fro,  as  if  waving 
adieu  to  passing  time. 

When  Mr.  Capel  and  Father  Tom  left  the 
hospitable  home  of  Mv.  Mannors  and  drove 
away  in  the  dreary  mist,  poor  Mary  hurried 
up  to  her  window  and  watched  the  receding 
carriage.  Oh !  how  eagerly  she  followed  it ; 
and  as  it  grew  less  and  less  in  the  distance, 
she  strained  her  eyes  to  still  keep  it  in  view  ; 
and  when  at  last  it  was  buried  in  the  Novem 
ber  gloom,  she  threw  herself  on  her  couch  and 
burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  REV.  DOCTOR  BUSTER  sat  alone  in  his 
study  ;  he  had  been  reading  the  morning  pa 
per,  and  had  just  laid  it  aside.  Snow-flakes 
were  falling  and  melting  in  the  muddy  streets  ; 
and  as  the  weather  was  not  sufficiently 
tempting  to  induce  him  to  leave  the  cheerful 
fireplace,  either  for  study  or  private  prayer,  he 
made  amends  by  refilling  a  long  clay  pipe, 
and  then,  elevating  his  feet  on  the  sides  of  the 
grate,  leaned  back  in  his  easy-chair,  puffed 
away  leisurely,  and  seemed  for  a  time  only  in 
tent  upon  watching  the  ascent  of  the  little 
whirling  clouds  of  smoke  which  he  blew  out 
in  long  gray  lines  toward  the  chimney.  He 
looked  very  thoughtful ;  now  surveying  the 
grotesque  forms  into  which  his  fancy  shaped 
the  glowing  coals,  now  glancing  at  the  array 
of  authors  quietly  ranged  around  on  the 
loaded  book-shelves,  as  if  awaiting  his  com 
mand  to  jump  down  in  defense  of  the  faith  ; 
once  or  twice  he  paused  to  listen  to  passing 
footsteps,  and  then  resumed  his  cogitations. 

Was  he  thinking  of  his  next  sermon  ? 
Pshaw!  that  was  not  in  his  line ;  he  had,  like 
other  distinguished  divines,  a  pile  of  the  most 
select  and  orthodox  discourses  laid  away,  suffi 
cient  to  last  for  a  lifetime,  should  he  require 
them.  Indeed,  Irs  mind  was  not  just  then  alto 
gether  bent  on  heavenly  matters;  generally, 
there  was  a  large  proportion  of  the  earthly  in 
gredient  mixed  up  with  his  contemplations ; 
but  at  the  present  moment  things  terrestrial 
were  entirely  running  through  his  brain,  and 
things  spiritual  were  perhaps  judiciously  laid 
aside  for  a  more  convenient  season. 

The  most  notable  and  exemplary  Christian 
ministers  have  occasionally  to  descend  to 
worldly  affairs ;  human  passions  or  emotions 
may  not  have  been  sufficiently  subdued.  Sec 
ular  contamination  has,  alas!  too  often  dis 
tracted  the  attention  of  many  a  saint,  and  the 
reverend  doctor,  like  others  of  the  "  sncre*! 
calling,"  was  often  forced  to  turn  his  consid 
eration  exclusively  to  the  weak,  beggarly  ele 
ments  of  the  world,  and  to  become  harassed 
and  agitated  by  the  perishable  things  of  timo 
and  sense.  His  religion  never  yet  came  to  tho 
rescue;  as  a  frail  man,  he  grew  more  frail, 
until  vileness  was  a  characteristic ;  he  could 
never  learn  to  love  an  enemy,  or  even  to  for 
give  one ;  and  dreadful  thoughts  of  hatred, 


EXETER    HALL. 


145 


revenge,  and  blood  alternately  overwhelmed 
and  controlled  his  impulses. 

Minute  after  minute  passed ;  at  times,  he 
would  mutter  and  frown  darkly,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  red  bars — he  never  smiled  when  he  was 
alone — and  he  would  turn  frequently  and  look 
out  as  if  exasperated  at  the  disagreeable 
weather,  which  perhaps  helped  to  detain  him 
within  that  dull  house. 

After  a  ti  11115  he  got  up,  and,  having 
nocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe,  went  and 
unlocked  a  small  cupboard,  took  out  a  decan 
ter  of  brandy,  and,  having  nearly  half-filled  a 
tumbler,  drunk  it  off  at  once,  without  reduc 
ing  its  prime  strength  with  any  admixture  of 
pure  water.  He  then  commenced  to  pace  the 
room,  and  would  often  stop  at  the  window  to 
look  down  the  sloppy  street,  as  if  anxious  to 
see  some  one  approach,  or  as  if  expecting  a 
visitor. 

"  Curse  the  brat !  it  is  now  nearly  eleven," 
said  he,  pulling  out  his  massive  gold  watch  ; 
"  does  he  intend  to  keep  me  here  all  day  ?  he 
must  have  got  my  note."  And  again  the  doc 
tor  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  growing  at 
the  same  time  more  and  more  impatient. 

A  tap  was  now  heard  at  a  private  door 
which  led  from  the  study  into  a  small  yard 
connecting  with  a  back  lane  or  alley.  The 
doctor  gently  lifted  a  corner  of  the  blind  of 
the  window  which  looked  out  into  this  place, 
and  cautiously  peered  from  behind  it.  In  a 
moment  he  unbolted  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley,  well  muffled  up,  entered. 

"Ah  Fanny!  is  it  you?"  and  he  actually 
hurried  to  hug  the  hidden  form.  "  I  did  not 
expect  you  until  evening.  Any  news  ?"  said 
he,  rubbing  his  hands  together  briskly,  and 
drawing  a  chair  for  her  toward  the  fire. 

"  Why,  you've  been  away  so  long,  doctor, 
I  thought  I'd  drop  in  as  soon  as  I  could,  when 
I  heerd  you  was  back.  We've  been  busy  at 
the  Home  lately,  and  as  I  had  a  chance,  I 
thought  I'd  run  in.  My !  but  it's  a  nasty  day," 
Haid  the  lady,  deliberately  shaking  her  cloak, 
and  placing  it  on  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  My  visitation  was  much  longer  than  I 
expected  ;  I  al  ways  have  so  many  grumbling 
pastors  to  satisfy,  so  much  petty  jealousy  to 
get  rid  of.  Confound  them,  they  are  the  most 
hard  to  please ;  and  then  there  are  so  many 
disputes  among  congregations,  that  one's  time 
is  greatly  taken  up.  Any  way,  I  wanted  to 
be  out  of  the  city  for  a  while,  though  one  or 
two  weeks  are  not  long  passing.  But  tell  me, 
what's  the  news?  I've  been  expecting 'Bross 
all  the  morning.  I  sent  him  a  line  last  eve 
ning  to  drop  in  to-day  on  his  way  to  the  office. 
I'm  better  pleased  to  see  you  any  way;  Fanny 
— draw  closer  to  the  fire." 

"  Oh !  them  clerks,  you  know,  doctor,  haven't 
always  their  own  time  at  command.  In  fact, 
neither  have  I,  just  now ;  but,  any  way,  I 
thought  I'd  call  and  tell  you  about  the  chil 
dren.'' 

"  I'm  satisfied  enough  about  them,  as  long 
as  they  are  under  your  charge  ;  they  are  well 
enough,  I  suppose — you'll  see  to  that,  Fanny  ; 
but  what  of  their  good  mother?  the  same 
old  story,  I  expect." 

"  Weil,  just  about  the  same,"  said  Mrs. 
Pinkley,  with  a  careless  air. 


"  Ay,  'twill  be  so  to  the  end  of  the  chapter 
and  I  wish  it  were  ended  long  ago ;  what  a 
curse  she  is,  to  be  sure !"  And  the  venom  that 
glistened  under  his  bushy  eyebrow,  as  he 
glanced  meaningly  at  his  companion,  brought 
the  least  smile  to  the  surface  of  the  red  face 
of  the  amiable  Mrs.  Pinkley. 

"  Things  may  soon  come  right,"  said  she, 
giving  a  little  cough.  "  Dr.  Marks  is  very  kind 
to  her  somehow — very  kind  ;  but  yet — " 

"  But  yet — the  devil!"  said  the  doctor,  now 
rising  and  stamping  angrily  upon  the  hearth. 
"  I  told  him  more  than  a  dozen  times  I  want 
ed  no  mild  work  with  her  ;  what  is  she  good 
for  ?  what  is  her  vile  life  to  me  ?  He  knows 
what  I  want  well  enough.  Does  the  fool 
expect  me  to  commit  myself  to  pen,  ink,  and 
paper?  You  must  see  to  this,  Fanny — you 
must  help  me.  If  Dr.  Marks  wishes  to  make 
his  patronized  Home,  his  famous  Maiiton  de 
S<mte,  more  popular  at  my  expense,  lie  will 
find  his  mistake.  I  was  a  fool  to  send  her 
there ;  we  might  have  managed  better,  far  bet 
ter  here,  ourselves.  If  he  can't  serve  me,  oth 
ers  will.  I'll  see  to  this." 

"  Patience,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Pinkley, 
with  the  mildest  voice  possible.  "  Things, 
you  know,  can't  be  done  in  a  hurry,  even 
there.  Dr.  Marks  will  never  do  what  you 
want — never.  Take  care  how  you  approach 
him  on  a  matter  of  life  and  death !  The  Home 
is  popular,  and  he  intends  to  keep  it  so.  You 
and  I  understand  eacli  other  ;  then  have  noth 
ing  to  say  to  Dr.  Marks  about  that.  I  have  a 
great  charge ;  he  trusts  me  with  many  of  his 
patients,  and  I  can  not  be  too  cautions  for  a 
while.  Whom  can  /trust  in  that  place  ?  I  can 
catch  staring  eyes  and  listening  ears  in  every 
corner ;  better  take  time ;  better,  far  better, 
have  her  under  Marks  than  where  you  would 
send  her.  There  are  few  inquests  held  over 
his  'dead  ;  no  suspicion,  no  detectives  on  the 
hunt,  no  hue  and  cry  in  the  papers  ;  he  man 
ages  all  that.  Coine,  what  do  you  say  ?" 

The  doctor's  face  grew  livid ;  there  was 
something  in  the  imperturbable  manner  of 
the  woman  that  fairly  awed  him,  savage  as 
he  even  then  was.  He  looked  steadily  at  the 
fire  for  a  few  moments  without  opening  his 
lips.  Then,  laying  his  hand  affectionately 
upon  the  lady's  shoulder,  lie  said :  "  Yes,  bet 
ter  take  time ;  you're  right,  Fanny,  you're 
right.  I  am  too  rash  ;  I  will  leave  this  busi 
ness  to  you ;  but  when  I  think  of  what  I  have 
suffered  by  that  wretch,  I  only  wish  that  we 
had  another  Laud,  and  another  Star-Chamber. 
— Well,  tell  me,  what  of  that  Hampstead  ruf 
fian  ;  have  you  heard  any  thing  ?" 

"  Only  there's  been  such  a  precious  row 
among  the  Methodist  saints ;  brother  Baker, 
one  of  your  kind  friends,  has  excommunicated 
brother  Capel,  and  Mrs.  Mannors's  household 
chaplain  has  left  for  parts  unknown  —  some 
say  for  Ireland." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  The  doctor  gave  a  loud 
sardonic  laugh,  and  again  rubbed  his  hands 
with  positive  delight.  "  The  infernal  hypo 
crites  !  I  did  hear  some  time  ago  that  Capel, 
an  Irish  apostle,  was  imported  for  the  special 
purpose  of  converting  that  fiend.  Convert 
him ;  good  God !  To  send  a  smooth-faced 
milk-sop  to  convert  Mannore!  He'd  maka 


146 


EXETER    HALL. 


perverts  of  a  dozen  such  empty  fools,  of 
course,  with  the  assistance  of  his  virtuous 
daughter."  There  was  a  scowl  on  the  doc 
tor's  face  whenever  it  was  turned  toward 
Hampstead. 

"  You've  heerd,  I  suppose,  about  his  mad 
•wife ;  about  the  raving  Methodist  saint  ? 
Them  revivals  are  a  help  to  Dr.  Marks." 

"  Oh  ! '  yes,"  said  the  doctor,  chuckling ; 
"the  meek  Martin  knows  something  of  bed 
lam  now  as  well  as  his  neighbors;  ha!  ha! 
They  tell  me  that  that  Jezebel  he  keeps  in 
the  house  with  him  only  wore  a  religious 
mask,  like  other  Methodists,  to  effect  her  pur 
poses.  Hannah,  I  think  they  call  her,  pro- 
fes>ed  to  be  one  of  the  church  militant,  and 
her  simple  mistress  was  enraptured  with  her 
for  a  time,  until  she  found  out  which  way  the 
wind  blew  ;  no  wonder  she  had  her  brain 
turned.  But  tell  me.  Fanny,"  said  he,  sud 
denly  recollecting  and  looking  at  her  intent 
ly,  "how  can  the  Methodist  revivals  help 
Dr.  Marks  ;  how,  tell  me  ?"  He  seemed  anxious 
for  a  reply. 

She  was  silent  a  moment  or  two,  as  if  pon 
dering  thoughtfully  upon  her  answer ;  she 
then  slowly  bent  over  and  whispered  some 
thing  in  his  ear. 

As  if  stung  by  an  adder,  he  sprang  from 
his  chair  and  stared  wildly  and  savagely  at 
the  woman  before  him.  But  she  never  quailed 
like  the  poor  creature  he  had  so  often  abused  ; 
she  returned  his  gaze  as  calmly  as  if  some 
pleasing  notion  were  then  passing  through 
her  brain. 

"  God  of  heaven  !"  exclaimed  he  at  last ; 
"is  it  possible?"  He  couid  only  then  utter 
these  passionate  words. 

"  Just  as  I  tell  you  ;  she  is  there,  she  is  with 
us  at  the  Home,  as  comfortable  as  heart  could 
•wish."  And  'Mrs.  Pinkley's  little  smile  was 
again  making  its  appearance,  as  if  she  had 
communicated  the  most  agreeable  informa 
tion. 

"  Heavens  and  earth !  the  fellow  must  be 
mad — raving  mad,"  roared  the  doctor,  in  a 
perfect  fury.  "  Gracious  Saviour  ! — well,  may 
the  eternal — " 

"  Oh !  fie.  fie !"  quickly  interrupted  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder, 
"  Don't  swear,  doctor,  don't  swear,  even  in  my 
presence ;  'tisn't  worth  your  while  ;  tut,  tut,  'tis 
but  a  trifle."  And  she  met  his  angry  eye  with 
the  most  provoking  amiability. 

"  Let  me  go,  woman,  let  me  go,"  said  he,  step 
ping  back,  pale  and  wild  with  rage.  "  Did 
you  come  here  only  to  bring  me  this  damned 
information?  Did  you  come  here  to  bid  me 
curse  you,  and  him,  and  every  body  ?  Did 
you  come  to  hurry  me  on  faster  and  faster  to 
misery?  Have  I  not  been  harassed  enough 
with  that  living  devil  which  you  will  keep 
alive  ?  Are  you  in  league  with  that  fool,  that 
imbecile,  that  knave,  to  say  that  you  can  re 
main  with  him  after  he  has  almost  betrayed 
me  by  accepting  as  a  patient  the  very  wife 
of  my  greatest  and  most  dangerous  enemy, 
Martin  Manners  ?  Just  think  of  his  demented 
Methodist  wife  raving  her  unmeaning  prayers 
alongside  of  mine  ;  just  think  of  the  same 
treacnerous,  incorrigible  infidel  walking  in 
and  out  of  that  place  daily,  and  then  making 


his  grand  discovery.  Did  you  come  here,  like 
a  Job's  comforter,  to  tell  me  of  this  ?" 

She  did  not  even  then  condescend  a  reply ; 
she  seemed  like  a  physiologist  in  a  study 
over  some  inferior  animal  ;  she  watched  the 
expression  of  his  face  and  eye,  and  then 
glanced  at  his  nervous,  twitching  fingers,  as  if 
she  expected  to  &•  e  him  suddenly  grasp  some- 
thir.g.  and  tear  it  to  pieces 

"  I  came  here  partly  for  that  purpose,  and 
if  I  didn't  tell  you,  how  could  you  find  it  out, 
eh?  You  might  go  in  and  out  there  every 
hour  of  the  day  and  be  none  the  wiser,  it'  I 
did  not  stay  with  Dr.  Marks,  either  as  a  clay 
or  night  attendant,  he  might  be  inclined  to 
fancy  your  good  wife  quite  restored,  and 
within  less  than  a  month  she  might  walk 
out,  sensible  of  her  own  wrongs  and  armed 
with  the"  laic.  How  would  that  please  you, 
doctor  V"  said  she,  still  studying  every 
rough  feature.  "  You  are  a  great  man  in  the 
pulpit ;  you  have  great  influence  in  the 
General  Assembly  ;  but,  la  me  !  what  a  simple 
ton  I  have  found  you — a  perfect  child  in  some 
things — a  great  big  buzzing  fly,  that  would 
be  entangled  in  many  a  skillful  web  if  I  did 
not  put  in  my  finger  and  take  you  out." 
When  saying  this,  she  gently  placed  her  fore 
finger  within  the  angle  of  the  wall,  as  if  in 
the  act  of  rescuing  a  veritable  blue-bottle. 

"  This,"  continued  she,  "  has  been  so  for 
years  ;  you  overrate  your  influence  with  many. 
Dr.  Marks  won't  be  caught ;  he  won't  leave 
himself  in  your  power,  or  in  mine,  or  in  the 
power  of  any  body  else.  As  you  desired  it,  he 
allows  me  to  attend  upon  your  wife  ;  of  course, 
I  make  my  daily  report,  and  he  believes  she 
is  a  little  crazy — just  a  little  only — so  little, 
that  she  would  be  out,  yes,  out,  before  now  if  it 
hadn't  been  for — now,  who  do  you  think  ? 
And  you  would  curse  me  for  serving  you  this 
way,  would  you  ?" 

The  cool,  collected  Mrs.  Pinkley  moved  back 
and  surveyed  him  with  a  feeling  akin  to  SCOIT, 
as  he  kept  demurely  near  the  window,  frown 
ing  out  at  the  massive  black  clouds  away  in 
the  distance. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  again  paid,  "  that  Dr. 
Marks  would  refuse  patients  merely  to  please 
your  whim?  He  wants  money  as  well  as 
others,  and  he  couldn't  afford  it.  There  may 
be  fifty  patients  in  together,  and  not  one  know 
the  other ;  and  fifty  different  fathers,  or  mo 
thers,  or  husbands  may  call  to  visit,  and  not 
find  out  that  their  next  door  neighbor  was 
there  under  treatment.  I  have  been  there  now 
for  some  time,  and  as  yet  don't  hardly  know 
who's  who  ;  I  have  tried  to  find  out  secrets  in 
that  place,  but,  sharp  as  I  think  I  am,  I  often  get 
completely  foiled ;  I  told  you  there  were  eyes 
and  ears  all  around." 

"  Then  how  did  you  learn  that  Mrs.  Man 
nors  was  one  of  the  ornaments  of  the  institu 
tion  ;  you  did  not  know  her  before ;  perhaps 
you  are  so  fortunate  as  to  have  control  of  the  re 
ligious  department ;  perhaps  Marks  has  great 
faith  in  your  prayers  ?"  said  Doctor  Buster  sar 
castically. 

"  I  knew  that  she  was  there,  because  I  saw 
her  husband  call  on  more  than  one  occasion, 
and  I  soon  found  out  his  errand." 

"  Then   he   found    out   you ;  no  doubt   ha 


EXETER    HALL. 


147 


quickly  ascertained  the  full  value  of  your  in- 
Juspensable  services,  in  case  his  wife  should 
want  consolation,"  sharply  retorted  the  doc 
tor. 

"  There  again  you're  mistaken ;  he  has 
never  laid  eyes  on  ine  since  1  managed  to 
bring  you  and  him  together  at  Tottenham 
Court  road ;  you  tioii't  forget  that  I  put  you 
in  possession  of  his  letter  to  your  wife?" 

"  1  remember." 

"  \Veli,  it's  a  wonder  you  do.  I  am  not  so 
simple  as  to  let  him  recognize  me  since  that. 
1  have  watched  his  coining,  and  kept  clear  of 
him.  What  if  you  were  in  my  place?  Good 
L>rdl  what  a  mess  you'd  make  of  it.  I'll 
take  care  of  Martin  Mannors.  You  induced 
me  to  enter  Dr.  Marks's  service ;  if  I  leave,  so 
will  your  wife.  Then  you  may  go,  for  you 
will  be  undone." 

It  is  said  that  certain  powerful  and  raven 
ous  beasts  have  often  been  controlled  by  weak 
and  insignificant  animals.  The  lion  may 
entertain  a  partiality  for  a  poodle  dog,  and 
indulge  its  gambols,  and  he  may  suffer  his 
flowing  mane  to  be  pulled  and  tugged  at 
with  impunity.  Whatever  the  nature  of  Mrs. 
Piukley's  influence  over  the  doctor  might  be, 
it  was  evident  that  she,  as  the  weaker  vessel, 
had  almost  absolute  rule ;  he  submitted  to  her 
when  it  might  be  dangerous  in  a  measure  for 
any  one  else  to  approach  him  ;  and  when  his 
temper  at  times  grew  savage,  she  had  only  to 
s,>eak,  or  rebuke,  or  threaten  in  her  own  way, 
and  he  became  as  docile  as  a  child. 

"  Fanny,"  said  the  doctor  now,  in  his  bland 
est  manner,  "  I  sometimes  think  I'm  mad;  I 
must  be  nearly  so  to  speak  to  you  as  I  have. 
But  I  was  startled  by  wiiat  you  told  me  —  it 
was  ao  unexpected,  so  cursedly  provoking ; 
but  it  is  no  fault  of  yours,  I  see  that.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  Marks  took  t«uch  a  patient ; 
\ve.  must,  however,  make  the  best  of  it;  but 
you  must  stay  there  now,  you  must  be  for  the 
future  as  her  shadow.  It  is  obvious  that  I 
Can  not  visit  that  place,  it  might  be  fatal  to 
our  plan ;  but  Maunors  will  go,  and  so  will 
his  daughter;  you  must  now  catch  every 
word,  see  every  motion — watch  him,  watch  her, 
watch  every  body." 

"  Now  you  are  more  reasonable,"  said  the 
lady,  in  a  c  miplimentary  tone  ;  "  I  knew  that 
we  should  have  a  little  storm,  that  you  would 
bluster  awhile,  it  was  only  bluster  alter  all. 
It  is  now  over,  and  we  must  look  at  the  busi 
ness  quietly  and  coiisid  -r  what  is  best  to  be 
done."  They  were  again  seated  before  the 
t.'e — Mrs.  Pinkley  as  if  perfectly  at  home,  and 
the  doctor  was  tamed  down  to  the  stan 
dard  or  quality  of  a  rational  being. 

"  Fauny,  I  know  how  deeply  I  am  indebted 
t  >  you,  1  can  never  forget  that.  I  know  how 
faithfully  you  have  served  me  in  times  past ; 
1  know  what  you  have  risked  for  me,  and  IMW 
]>  nverless  I  might  often  have  been  without 
rniir  ready  aid;  and  hear  me,  Fan,"  said  he, 
drawing  closer  to  her,  "  I  know  my  pro  idse  to 
you,  I  remember  it  well,  and,  by  heavens! 
just  as  soon  as  I  am  at  liberty — ay,  the  very 
day  I  am  made  a  widower,  that  promise  shall 
be  renewed  and  carried  out  in  due  time." 

Whether  it  was  the  gentle  oath — gentle,  of 
tourse,  on  such  an  occasion — that  the  doctor 


then  swore,  or  the  unnatural  tenderness  that 
seemed  to  wander  about  his  hard  features, 
like  a  lost  sunbeam  in  a  desert,  that  made  the 
amiable  Mrs.  Pinkley  blush  a  deeper  pink, 
she  did  really  blush ;  it  came  to  that,  and 
then  bashfully  as  it  were  raising  her  hand  to 
shade  her  eyes  from  his  ogre-like  glances,  she 
looked  modestly  down  at  the  hearth,  as  if 
overcome  by  a  very  peculiar  emotion. 

"  Well,  doctor,"  said  she,  with  eyes  still  bent 
down  and  emphasizing  her  words,  "  I  did 
want  to  hear  that  promise  again,  I  did.  I 
sometimes  have  been  foolish  enough  to  think 
that  you  might  forget  me  for  some  favored 
one  of  the  rich,  proud,  pious  ladies  that 
swarm  around  you.  I  have  made  sacrifices 
for  you ;  for  your  sake  I  got  rid  of  Pinkley 
and  became  a  widow  ;  for  you  I  have  re 
mained  so,  and  am  willing  to  wait.  Ay," 
said  she,  lowering  her  voice  almost  to  a  whis 
per,  and  regarding  him  with  singular  interest, 
"  you  know  what  I  have  done  and  am  still 
willing  t »  do  to  join  our  fate.  Yes,  I  wanted 
that  promise  renewed.  I  wanted  your  most 
sacred  word — even  your  oath,  your  solemn 
oath." 

"  You  shall  have  my  word,  or  my  oath, 
or  any  thing  else  you  desire.  Have  I  not 
trusted  all  to  you,  and  put  myself  in  your 
power,  as  you  have  placed  yourself  in  mine? 
Can  you  doubt?  Our  interests  are  one— not 
my  interest  alone,  but  my  inclination  is  to 
ward  you.  Never  think  of  the  brainless  but 
terflies  that  flutter  around  your  gospel  lumi 
naries.  I  know  their  value,  the  lull  value  of 
such  very  pious  ladies,  and  I  know  yours. 
You  have  ability,  Fan ;  tact,  shrewdness,  cau 
tion,  courage — true  courage  ;  that's  the  quali 
ty!  never  think  again  of  those  moths.  1  tell 
you  I  have  promised,  and  will  perform.  I  must 
do  so ;  1  can  not  do  without  you.  You  are  my 
legal  adviser.  Fan  ;  my  faithful  pilot  in  every 
storm,  but  I  am  still  in  bonds ;  when,  when 
shall  I  be  free 't" 

"  That's  an  important  question  to  answer ;  it 
won't  do  to  be  in  too  great  a  hurry.  I  am,  I 
know  I  am,  more  anxious  than  you,  but  I  am 
more  cautious.  Oh!  how  I  wish  this  affair 
was  over !  Pinkley 's  was  bad  enough ;  will  this 
be  worse?  There  are  some  imps  in  iheHome, 
that  I  must  get  rid  of.  I  have  spoken  to 
Marks  about  a  change,  and  have  given  him 
some  plausible  reasons.  I  think  he  is  willing 
we  have  already  engaged  a  new  keeper, and 
if  I  can  only  get  a  few  other  total  strangers  iu 
place  of  some  of  our  present  inquisitive  atten 
dants,  I  shall,  I  think,  be  able  to  avoid  all  sus 
picion. " 

"  That's  the  point,  Fan  ;  beware  of  that 
rock !"  . 

"  Your  wife  is  cautious  with  me  ;  I  made  up 
a  story  to  explain  about  how  that  letter  from 
Mannors  got  into  your  hands,  still  she  is  cau 
tious.  She  has,  I  am  sun!,  one  confident ;  that 
I  will  get  rid  of,  and  then — " 

There,  was  a  pause.  What  a  terrible  reve 
lation  might  have  been  made  by  the  lull,  free 
completion  of  the  s  intence.  Even  an  un 
wonted  gravity  settled  upon  the  doctor's  face- 
not  in  dread  of  the  commission  of  actual  crime, 
but  of  the  terrible  detection  which,  in  spite  of 
all,  might  possibly  follow.  He  thought  of  this. 


148 


EXETER    HALL. 


for  he  knew  the  determination  of  her  who  had 
just  spoken. 

"  But  tell  me,  doctor,"  she  continued,  "  we 
are  now,  I  may  say,  talking  practically  ;  sup 
posing  every  thing  all  over  as  you  could  de 
sire  ;  you  say  that  you  would  not  stay  here 
very  long  afterward ;  so  far,  so  good.  But  what 
are  your  means?  You  have  got  through  a 
lot  of  hard  cash,  sure  enough.  You  are  al 
ways  complaining  of  a  want  of  money.  All 
I  have  saved  is  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  or 
sixty  pounds — a  great  deal  to  me,  but,  good 
ness  !  only  a  mere  trifle  to  you.  Now,  what 
are  your  means1?  Then  there's  the  children, 
think  of  that." 

"  Now,  you  are  the  simpleton.  Why,  did 
you  for  a  moment  think  that  I  have  been  for 
getting  the  main  point  ?  Not  I ;  I  never  forget 
that.  You  know  I  lost  heavily  by  that  stock 
I  purchased,  but  that  will  be  soon  made  up. 
I  have  already  got  a  full  score  of  your  pious 
butterflies  at  work  for  me.  I  can  always  de 
pend  upon  them.  They  believe  I  have  robbed 
myself  to  give  to  the  poor ;  let  them  think  so. 
Of  course,  I  have  had  to  throw  away  a  good 
deal  that  way  for  appearance'  sake.  I  have, 
however,  told  my  silken  saints  this  time,  in 
plain  English,  that  I  wanted  no  presents — 
neither  gilt-edged  books,  nor  shining  plate, 
nor  baubles  of  any  kind  ;  that  cash,  hard  cash, 
was  necessary  for  certain  pious  purposes  ;  and 
already  there  have  been  a  number  of  tea- 
meetings,  and  bazaars  and  fairs  are  still  in 
progress — every  thing  in  full  blast.  I  have 
managed  to  start  a  nice  little  rivalry,  and 
cash  will  come  in  this  time." 

The  fair  Mrs.  Pinkley  seemed  very  much  in 
terested  in  these  details,  and  her  reverend 
gallant  rose  greatly  in  her  estimation  ;  she  ad 
mired  him  in  the  character  of  such  a  deluder. 

"  Then  I  can  get  Wilkins,  the  banker,  one 
of  our  church,  to  discount  a  note  for  any 
amount.  I  have  managed  to  be  clear  on  his 
books  for  some  time,  and  I  can  arrange  to 
take  a  cool  thousand  there  :  I  will  see  about 
that  to-day,  and,  when  I  am  gone,  the  Rev. 
Andrew  Campbell,  my  indorser,  can  afford  to 
lose  it.  He  has,  to  my  knowledge,  nearly 
double  that  amount  to  his  credit ;  and  he  may 
thank  me  for  his  present  good  position.  I  in 
tend  to  make  him  grateful." 

"  Well,  doctor,"  said  the  lady,  in  the  prettiest 
manner  she  could  assume,  "  I  always  heerd 
among  our  church  members  that  you  were 
good  at  finance,  as  youxmll  it ;  popular  minis 
ters — indeed,  preachers  of  all  kinds — have  the 
real  knack  of  getting  money — raising  the 
wind,  as  they  say  —filthy  lucre !  he !  he  !  he  !" 

"  That's  not  all,  Fan,"  said  the  doctor,  nat 
tered  by  her  approval ;  "  see  here !  this  is  a 
subscription-list  for  the  erection  of  a  new 
church  near  Highgate  ;  just  look!  one,  two, 
three  of  them  down  for  a  thousand  pounds 
each,  and  five  others  for  five  hundred  a  piece. 
Now,  the  contract  is  not  to  be  let  until  five 
thousand  of  this  sum  is  placed  in  my  hands. 
Yes,  in  mine,  as  treasurer  for  the  trustees." 
And  his  fist  closed  tightly  at  the  pleasant  idea. 

"  Now,  if  I  should  be,  say,  so  unfortunate  as 
to  lose  the  money,  or  have  it  stolen — a  thing, 
you  know,  of  common  occurrence — and  if  you 
should  happen  to  find  it — a  thing  equally  pos 


sible — I  can,  of  course,  lament  the  loss  ;  but, 
bless  your  heart,  it  won't  be  felt.  What's  a 
thousand  or  ten  thousand  to  some  of  thorn  1 
Put  on  a  little  pressure,  and  they  will  come 
down  again  ;  but  we  need  not  wait  for  the  re 
sult.  Will  that  answer,  Fan?"  said  he,  gent 
ly  laying  his  hand  in  hers. 

Good  Mrs.  Pinkley  counted  over  the  strong 
names  on  the  list  which  the  doctor  had  taken 
from  a  small  drawer  ;  and,  having  after  a  lit 
tle  time  succeeded  in  adding  up  the  three  for 
a  thousand  and  the  five  for  five  hundred,  she 
clutched  the  paper  as  if  she  then  and  there 
had  hold  of  the  princely  amount  which  the  doc 
tor  partly  predicted  she  might  be  so  lucky  aa 
to  stumble  over  out  of  the  sum  total. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  she,  highly  delighted  ; 
"  that  will  be  the  very  thing.  Prime !  excel 
lent  !  if  it's  only  managed  well.  Let  that  be 
your  part — mine,  I  fear,  will  not  be  so  easy. 
Then  there's  the  children — we  may  have 
trouble  with  them  ;  there  will  be  trouble  any 
way  with  that  boy,  he'll  be  as  stiff  and  a& 
positive  as  ever  his  mother  was.  You  must 
look  after  him  in  time ;  he  has  strange  no 
tions." 

"  The  children  will  be  a  nuisance — well,  a 
difficulty,"  said  he,  correcting  himself ;  "  but 
we  may  be  able  to  make  some  arrangement ; 
there's  time  enough,  however,  for  that.  Frank 
is  getting  positive,  is  he  ?  he  shall  never  be 
like  his  mother,  if  I  can  help  it.  I'd  rather 
see  him  dead  and  in  his  grave  first.  I'll  reg 
ulate  him,  don't  be  afraid  of  that.  How  glad 
I  am  now  that  you  called,  Fan — you  do  manage 
things  so  well.  Yet,  one  more,  j  ust  one  more 
cautious  act,  and  you  know  the  rest ;  one 
more,  and  I  shall  fulfill  that  promise." 

Just  then  a  smart  rap  was  heard  at  the 
street  door.  "  This  is  Bross,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  I  shall  hear  something  now  about  Manners." 
And  then,  having  promised  to  call  and  see  hei 
and  the  children  as  soon  as  possible,  he  ten 
derly  pressed  her  hand  as  she  retired  by  the 
private  entrance.  Quickly  arranging  his  hair 
by  running  it  back  through  his  fingers,  he 
then  approached  the  door,  and,  wearing  his 
most  benevolent  and  sanctimonious  expres 
sion,  he  meekly  smiled  as  he  received  his  ex 
pected  visitor. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

MR.  TFIOMAS  Bnoss  was  the  young  gentle 
man  with  extensive  shirt-collar,  who  called 
at  Hampstead  Cottage  to  deliver  a  letter,  and 
who,  at  the  time,  happened  to  overhear  Mrs. 
Mannors,  under  the  influence  of  her  hallucina 
tion,  reproach  her  husband  for  his  unfaithful- 
ness ;  and  this  incident  he,  as  a  moral  man 
and  good  Christian,  immediately  construed 
into  its  worst  sense,  and,  with  slight  additions, 
retailed  it  in  his  own  way  where  he  thought 
the  story  would  be  most  acceptable. 

Mr.  Bross  was  a  junior  clerk  in  the  office  of 
Vizard  &  Coke,  Gray's  Inn ;  in  his  own 
estimation,  rather  clever,  but  his  fellow- 
students  considered  him  a  parasite,  a  syco 
phant,  any  thing  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
his  employers,  or  with  any  one  else  whom  h« 
fancied  had  influence.  He  was  a  strict  Pre& 


EXETER    HALL. 


149 


byterian,  a  member  of  the  Rev.  Andrew 
Campbell's  church,  and  he  distributed  tract 
after  breakfast  on  Sundays  until  church  time. 
He  had  a  class  in  the  Sabbath-school,  and 
was  particularly  obsequious  to  the  lady  teach 
ers,  who  found  an  agreeable  pastime  in  co 
operating  with  such  prepossess! n g  young1  gen 
tlemen  for  the  illumination  of  younger  Chris 
tians. 

The  ladies  of  the  congregation  he,  of  course, 
knew  esteemed  Doctor  Buster  very  highly; 
he  had  heard  them  speak  of  his  great  talents 
and  exalted  character,  and  Mr.  Bross  was  not 
Blow  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  good  graces 
of  the  moderator ;  and  the  doctor  found  in 
the  very  moral  young  man  a  very  convenient 
tool  or  agent. 

It  was  the  low,  stumpy  form  of  Mr.  Bross 
that  entered  the  study  of  Doctor  Buster  after 
Mrs.  Pinkley's  retreat ;  he  was  greeted  by  the 
genial  smile  of  that  distinguished  pillar  of 
the  church. 

"  Ah !  my  very  dear  young  friend,  I  am 
most  happy  to  see  you ;  I  was  beginning  to 
fear  that  you  had  not  received  my  note.  I 
trust  I  have  not  put  you  to  much  inconve 
nience  by  requesting  you  to  call  so  early  to 
day  ;  I  like  to  see  all  my  friends  when  I  return 
to  the  city." 

Mr.  Bross  leered  with  his  prominent  eyes  at 
the  doctor ;  he  was  delighted  at  the  complai 
sance  of  the  great  man  before  him,  and 
paused  a  moment  in  grateful  admiration  ere 
he  could  find  a  reply. 

"  Not  the  least,  doctor,  not  the  least ;  there 
could  be  no  inconvenience.  0  my !  not  at 
all,  sir — 'tis  such  a  privilege  to  be  here ;  I 
would  have  called  sooner,  but  it  so  happened 
that  just  as  I  was  about  to  leave  the  office 
last  evening,  your  very  respected  friend  Man- 
nors  walked  in,  and  I  thought  I  could  make 
my  visit  more  interesting  by  \»aiting  a  little 
longer." 

"  He  did,  indeed !  how  very  opportune  !  pray 
be  seated,  my  dear  friend.  Ah  !  pardon  me, 
how  is  your  excellent  mother?  You  see," 
gaid  the  doctor,  piously  raising  his  eyes,  "  what 
we  sometimes  might  only  consider  a  fortu 
nate  occurrence  is  often,  in  reality,  an  act  of 
Providence — the  mysterious  hand  guiding  our 
destinies,  the  luminous  finger  pointing  out 
the  hidden  danger,  the  vast  intelligence  gra 
ciously  counteracting  evil  designs.  Ah  !  my 
friend,  this  has  been  my  experience ;  I  can 
not  be  too  thankful.  Undeserving  as  I  am, 
even  you  have  been  an  agent  in  the  hand  of 
the  Almighty  for  my  benefit." 

The  eyes  of  the  delisrhted  Bross  fairly  glis 
tened  to  hear  such  words  from  the  mouth  of 
such  a  chosen  vessel.  The  bare  idea  of  hav 
ing  been  acknowledged  as  the  selected  instru 
ment  to  serve  this  meek,  exemplary  pastor 
was  almost  overwhelming !  What  would  he 
not  have  then  given  to  be  able  to  weep  a  lit 
tle  gratitude  for  so  much  condescension  ? 

"  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  you  have  proved  an 
unexpected  aid  to  mo  with  regard  to  the  evil 
designs  of  that  bad  man.  I  have  already 
made  you  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  his 
calumnies,  of  his  unholy  attacks  against  me, 
yet  I  care  not  for  myself.  He  is,  as  you  are 
aware,  an  unbeliever  in  our  divine  faith;  and, 


a8  an  humble  instrument  in  upholding  the 
truth  of  God,  I  have  had  to  reply  to  the 
specious  and  dangerous  reasoning  which  ha 
has  circulated  through  the  debased  columns  of 
the  Westminster  Review  against  the  Scrip 
tures.  I  have  had  to  neutralize  the  poisonous 
error  with  which  he  had  infected  many  feeble 
minds,  and  for  this,  as  well  as  for  other  simi 
lar  reasons,  I  have  incurred  his  hatred.  Since 
my  unfortunate  domestic  affliction,  his  base 
insinuations  and  intermeddling  have  been  to 
me  a  painful  persecution.  But  the  ministers 
of  God  should  esteem  it  a  privilege  to  suffer 
in  his  cause.  '  Our  light  affliction,  which  is 
but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory.'  The 
Lord  will,  I  humbly  trust,  counteract  the  inten 
tions  of  this  wicked  person." 

After  this  delivery,  the  doctor  was  evidently 
much  affected,  and  when  he  stooped  down  to 
apply  his  handkerchief,  the  feelings  of  the 
sympathizing  clerk  were  overcome,  and  in  a 
similar  manner  he  tried  to  hide  the  tears 
which  it  is  to  be  presumed  filled  his  eyes  on 
the  occasion. 

"  He  will — he  will,  no  doubt,  reverend  sir," 
said  Bross  in  a  faltering  voice.  "  I  am  aware 
of  all  that  that  evil-disposed  man  has  done 
against  you.  I  can  assure  you,  nothing  will 
give  me  greater  satisfaction  than  to  be  of  the 
slightest  service  to  you  in  any  way.  I  am 
but  a  humble  individual,  sir ;  but  if  my  very 
humble  services  can  be  of  the  slightest  assist 
ance,  pray  do,  sir,  command  me ;  it  will  be 
such  a  pleasure  to  obey." 

"  Ah !"  said  the  doctor,  as  if  soliloquizing, 
"  what  great  faithfulness  and  amiability  we 
discover  where  there  is  least  pretension." 
Than,  after  a  well-regulated  pause,  he  con 
tinued  :  "  He  calls  at  your  office  very  often 
then,  you  say  ;  he  must  be  rather  litigious? 
no  doubt  of  it." 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  calls  occasionally.  We  do  hie 
business — at  least  the  respected  firm  of  Vizain 
&  Coke  have  the  management  of  whatever 
matters  require  legal  attention.  We  conduct 
liis  legal  affairs  when  he  has  any  ;  they  can't 
be  much,  for  we  never  had  a  case  of  his  ii> 
court ;  yet  he  calls,  it  must  be  for  advice." 

"  What  business  can  he  then  possibly  have 
to  require  attention  in  your  office  ?  what  ad 
vice  can  he  require  if  he  is  neither  plaintiff 
nor  defendant  ?  Can  you  find  out  ?  I  am 
anxious  to  know,  and  I  will  explain  the  rea 
son  some  other  time." 

"  Explain !  Of  course  you  need  explain 
nothing  to  me,  sir  ;  I  shall  only  be  too  happy 
;o  be  of  any — " 

"  Never  mind,  never  mind,  my  dear  friend  : 
[  am  quite  aware  of  all  that;  just  find  out 
:iis  aim,  he  must  have  some  sinister  motive 
n  view  ;  he  is  one  whom  we  must  distrust." 

"  Well,  it  is  so  difficult  to  find  out  what  he 
s  after.  He  is  generally  in  close  consultation 
with  Mr.  Vizard,  all  that  is,  of  course,  lost  ta 
us  ;  ho  must  have  a  design — indeed,  I  suspect 
lim  already.  You  remember  the  conversa 
tion  which  I  told  you  I  overheard  between 
:iim  and  his  wife  ?'' 

"  Ah !  yes — that  where  she  accused  him  of 
unfaithfulness.  Poor  woman  !  Let  me  so?, 
[  think  you  said  the  maid,  or  rather  his  fa 


150 


EXETER    HALL. 


vorite,  was  present  at  tlie  time/'  spoke  the 
doctor  suggestively. 

"  There  was  another  person — a  wo~~i,  a 
female,  a  favorite — no  doubt  just  whai  you 
say,"  stammered  the  compliant  clerk. 

"  Alas!  she  was  the  certain  cause  of  all  the 
misery  that  has  since  fallen  upon  his  unhappy 
wife.  But  what  better  could  be  expected  ? 
What  faithfulness,  or  honor,  or  principle,  or 
morality  could  follow  from  one  who  would 
ignore  religion  ?  The  tree  is  known  by  its 
fru  t." 

"Very  true  indeed,  sir.  What  faithfulness 
or  honor,  or  morality  could  follow  ?"  echoed 
the  correct  Mr.  Bross. 

"  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  perhaps  it  would 
be  well  that  you  should  clearly  remember 
what  took  place  at  that  time ;  it  may  be  of 
service  hereafter.  No  doubt  it  then  occurred 
to  you  that  the  trouble  was  caused  by  domes 
tic  jealousy,"  again  suggested  the  doctor. 

"  I  think  it  did,  sir ;  yes,  I  think  that  was 
my  impression — of  course  it  was.  You  are 
perfectly  right,  sir ;  it  was  jealousy." 

"  Oh !  it  is  quite  apparent,  it  could  be  nothing 
else.  And  you  have  no  idea  of  the  real  na 
ture  of  his  business  at  the  office?" 

"  I  can  not  say  for  certain  ;  I  oft^n  take  an 
opportunity  of  going  into  the  private  room 
to  make  an  inquiry— this  is  a  great  liberty — 
and  I  once  overheard  Mr.  Vizard  say  some 
thing  as  to  the  law  regulating  the  confine 
ment  of  insane  persons." 

"  Insane  persons!  Ah!  I  see,"  said  the  doc 
tor  stoically.  Yet  the  sudden  pressure  on  his 
temples  at  the  moment  was  rather  oppressive  ; 
and  his  face  became  suddenly  flushed. 

Mr.  Bross  continued,  '•  Lately,  I  had  reason 
to  believe  that  he  had  some  business  of  his 
own.  There  was,  I  think,  a  settlement,  or  will, 
or  instrument  drawn,  by  which  his  daughter 
was  to  be  benefited.  The  copy  of  this  1  have 
not  yet  seen — I  will  get  hold  of  it  if  possible; 
but  a  scrap  of  memoranda  which  I  saw  in 
the  waste-basket,  related  to  such  a  convey 
ance." 

"  A  scrap  not  worth  keeping,  I  suppose  ?" 
snid  the  doctor  carelessly.  "  The  matter, 
however,  as  to  lunatics  must  have  been  in  re 
lation  to  his  own  wife.  Methodistic  excite 
ment  and  jealousy,  and  the  misconduct  and 
immorality  of  her  husband,  all,  no  doubt,  com 
bined  to  overpower  her  weak  mind." 

"  Most  probably,  sir  ;  but  there  was  nothing 
on  the  piece  of  paper  which  could  be  of  any 
advantage;  I  looked  it  over  carefully.  Perhaps, 
though,  there  may  be  something  in  this  ;  I 
paw  it  upon  one  of  the  office  chairs  after  they 
went  away."  And  Mr.  Bross  handed  the  doctor 
an  open  envelope. 

Two  small  pieces  of  paper  were  all  it  con 
tained  ;  one  was  written,  the  other  printed, 
but  even  these  were  sufficient  to  drive  the 
blood  into  the  doctor's  face  and  then  suddenly 
back  to  his  heart,  leaving  him  in  a  state  of 
pallor ;  and  though  he  tried  to  appear  very 
calm,  he  was  evidently  much  agitated. 
The  print  and  the  writing  took  hut  a  minute 
to  read,  yet  like  some  powerful  spell,  or  as  but 
a  single  drop  of  a  potent  drug,  the  effect  was 
sudden  and  stupefying.  On  one  piece  of 
paper  the  doctor  read,  in  his  own  hand 


writing,  "A.  M.,  North  street,  near  Jewish 
Cemetery,"  and  the  other  was  an  advertise 
ment  cut  -Tom  the  Times. — "Wanted,  two  or 
three  steady  ar.d  intelligent  persons,  suitable 
for  attendants  in  a  private  hospital ;  strangers 
to  the  city  preferred.  Address  Dr.  A.  M.,  1322 
North  street. 

For  the  time,  Mr.  Bross  seemed  to  have  been 
entirely  forgotten.  The  eye  of  his  reverend 
friend  still  rested  upon  the  advertisement, 
then  it  glanced  at  the  writing,  and  then  there 
was  a  contraction  of  the  brow,  as  if  some  deep 
problem  required  the  most  powerful  concen 
tration  of  thought.  The  doctor  had  never 
missed  the  memorandum  which  he  had  drop 
ped,  he  could  not  tell  where  ;  but  there  waa 
his  own  writing,  sure  enough,  and  how  this 
scrap  ever  got  into  the  hands  of  Martin  Man- 
nors  was  the  mystery.  Then  the  connection 
which  had  evidently  been  established  between 
the  writing  and  the  advertisement  caused 
him  the  greatest  anxiety.  Through  the  small 
opening  already  made,  an  enemy  might  see  a 
great,  great  distance.  Were  his  plans  known  ? 
Were  his  schemes  detected  ?  Was  he  already 
discovered,  and  the  hated  infidel  already  upon 
his  track  to  crush  and  expose  him  before 
the  world?  He  looked  half  bewildered  around 
the  room,  and  then  askance  with  tiger  eye 
even  at  Bross,  as  if  he  had  already  sus 
pected  him  of  being  an  emissary.  Suddenly 
collecting  himself,  he  assumed  his  blandest 
tone,  and  said  carelessly  : 

"  I  hardly  understand  the  meaning  of 
these  items ;  there  may  be  something  in 
them,  yet  scarcely  of  any  consequence.  Are 
you  sure  that  they  were  left  by  Manners  ?" 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir,  quite  certain  ;  at  least,  either 
by  him  or  the  person  who  was  with  him — one 
or  the  other." 

"  Person  with  him !  Was  there  any  one 
with  liim  wheji  he  called  ?" 

"  Indeed,  I  forgot  to  mention  that  there 
was  a  stranger — a  person  I  never  saw  before." 
And  Mr.  Bross  gave  the  best  description  he 
could  of  the  unknown  individual. 

With  all  his  caution,  the  doctor  could  not 
hide  his  uneasiness.  Who  this  new  actor  was 
that  had,  as  it  were,  just  entered  on  the  stage, 
or  the  part  he  was  to  perform,  created  much 
embarrassment.  There  was  an  alliance  or 
secret  combination  formed  which  disconcerted 
him  very  much,  and  every  attempt  must  now 
be  made  to  discover  the  nature  of  this  fresh 
source  of  danger.  However,  it  would  not  do 
to  appear  in  the  least  intimidated  ;  there  should 
be  no  evidence  of  weakness  or  wavering,  and 
the  doctor  for  the  time  simulated  the  greatest 
indifference. 

"  Well,  my  dear  friend,  I  feel  greatly  obliged 
to  you  for  your  kind  attention  to  my  interests. 
I  do  not,  of  course,  understand  to  what  these 
papers  refer ;  however,  they  may,  perhaps 
guide  us  to  something.  But  if  you  can  pos 
sibly  ascertain  who  this  other  person  is,  or 
where  he  resides,  or  what  business  there  can 
be  between  him  and  my  enemy,  it  may  be 
serviceable.  It  is  probable  that  this  envelope 
and  its  contents  were  left  behind,  as  being  of 
no  service.  I  can  not  see  that  they  are  of  any 
consequence;  any  way,  I  shall  keep  them  in 
my  possession ;  insignificant  as  they  now  are 


EXETER    HALL, 


151 


they  may,  perhaps,  be  useful  at  another 
time." 

The  doctor  again  thanked  Bross  most  gra 
ciously.  He  then  gave  a  pious  turn  to  the  con 
versation,  and  feelingly  commented  on  the 
great  refuge  of  the  Christian  in  troublous 
times.  What  was  this  world  but  the  vanity 
of  vanities — a  fleeting  show,  a  snare  ?  He 
spoke  of  the  glorious  privilege  of  Sabbath 
services  ;  he  urged  punctuality  at  the  weekly 
prayer-meeting  and  regular  attendance  at  the 
Sabbath-school.  Every  effort  should  be  made 
to  spread  a  knowledge  of  the  Lord  over  the 
whole  earth.  The  beauty  of  holiness  was  a 
theme  upon  which  he  said  he  loved  to  dwell. 
Oh  !  how  it  made  his  heart  expand  in  love  to 
all.  What  reproach  he  would  be  willing  to 
suffer  for  the  truth !  Words  of  affection 
seemed  to  flow  from  the  lips  of  the  holy  man, 
and  from  the  manner  in  which  poor,  devoted 
Mr.  Bross  hung  his  head,  it  was  evident  that 
the  doctor's  pious  remarks  made  a  due  impres 
sion. 

Time  was  fleeing  fast,  and  the  punctual 
Bross  hinted  the  necessity  of  returning  to  his 
post  ;  and  j  ust  as  that  hopeful  young  Christian 
and  law-clerk  was  about  to  take  his  leave, 
the  doctor  drew  from  a  recess  a  bundle  of  as 
sorted  religious  tracts  and  handed  them  to  his 
young  disciple  for  distribution.  Here  was  a 
means  for  the  most  unassuming  to  make  them 
selves  useful.  He  complimented  Bross  for 
the  diligence  he  had  already  shown,  and  urged 
him  to  continue  in  the  good  work.  Scattered 
here  and  there  among  the  careless  and  pro 
fane,  these  little  leaves  might  cause  some  to 
pause  on  the  down  ward  road,  and  bring  reflec 
tion  to  many  a  careless  sinner ;  and  what  a 
gratification  it  would  be  for  one  to  know  that 
he  was  a  privileged  agent  in  such  a  work. 

Mr.  Bross  reverently  received  the  orthodox 
package.  He  was  delighted  at  such  manifes 
tations  of  confidence  from  one  of  such  estab 
lished  piety;  he  stammered  many  promises; 
and  took  his  departure,  asserting  his  deter 
mination  to  renew  his  exertions  in  the  cause 
of  the  Lord — and  Doctor  Buster. 

The  day  continued  gloomy,  and  the  doctor 
etood  at  the  window  for  some  time  and  va 
cantly  watched  the  retiring  form  of  Bross 
through  the  thick  mist.  The  morning,  so  far, 
had  been  unpropitious,  the  moderator  felt 
strangely  uneasy  ;  every  visitor  as  yet  had 
brought  him  but  ill  news — how  would  the 
day  end  ?  As  he  still  looked  out,  he  clutched 
the  envelope,  and,  having  given  his  wandering 
conjectures  full  scope  for  some  minutes,  he 
again  read  the  writing  and  advertisement. 

"  Well,  what  a  cursed  fool  I  must  have  been 
to  let  this  out  of  my  hands !  How  the  devil 
did  Mannors  get  it — or  was  it  given  him  by 
another?  Well,  damn  them,  let  it  go  !  what 
can  they  make  of  it '?  nothing  !  They  may  do 
their  best,  Marks  and  Fan  will  be  able  for 
them.  But  stay,  she  has  not  yet  seen  these 
waifs  ;  this  has  wandered  back  to  me,"  said  he, 
looking  at  his  own  writing  ;  "and  as  for  this 
advertisement,  1  must  show  it  to  her  at 
once.  Xo  doubt  she  will  be  their  match — she 
never  fails." 

Having  thus  soliloquized,  the  doctor  again 
fortified  himself  with  an  increased  dose  of  his 


favorite  liquor,  and,  muffling  himself  up  care 
fully,  left  the  lonely  house  to  make  a  few  calls, 
and  then  to  visit  Mrs.  Pinkley,  and  counsel 
with  her  as  his  chief  friend  and  adviser. 

When  Mr.  Bross  reached  the  office  of  his 
employers,  he  was  immediately  dispatched 
with  a  message  to  Hampstead.  lln  was  very 
much  pleased  at  this,  and  trusted  that  an  op 
portunity  might  offer  of  being  able  to  serve  his 
reverend  patron,  Doctor  Buster.  On  his  arrival 
at  Heath  Cottage,  he  was  met  at  the  garden 
gate  by  Miss  Mannors,  and  admitted  into  the 
house  by  her  whom  he  then  thought  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  beings  on  which  his  eyes 
had  ever  rested.  Mr.  Mannors  was  absent, 
but  was  expected  home  every  minute,  and  in 
the  mean  time  his  fair  daughter,  Mary,  kept 
his  visitor  in  conversation.  The  blushing, 
blundering  Bross  was  sadly  stricken,  and  for 
a  full  half-hour  made  the  most  desperate  and 
agonizing  efforts  to  appear  collected  and  in 
his  ordinary  senses  ;  but  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  when  Mr.  Mannors  returned,  he  could 
scarcely  make  himself  understood.  He  waa 
almost  hopelessly  lost — a  victim  to  love  at 
first  sight. 

What  a  change  had  already  come  over  the 
fickle  Bross  !  The  maligned  Martin  Mannors 
was  now  a  hero,  for  whom  he  would  have  con 
signed  the  great  Doctor  Buster  to  the  remotest 
ends  of  the  earth  ;  and  Miss  Mannors  was  a 
sweet  divinity,  for  whom  he  could  have  for 
saken  his  Sunday-school  and  its  feminine 
attractions ;  she  was  an  angel,  for  whom  he 
might  be  possibly  persuaded  to  lay  down  his 
very  life,  or  even  resign  the  coveted  honor  of 
being  secretary  to  an  extensive  and  distin 
guished  branch  of  the  Young  Men's  Chris 
tian  Association  of  London.  Alas !  what  a 
sudden  fall  from  grace  to  nature.  Poor  Bross 
was  already  a  willing  backslider,  already 
contemplating  further  strides  upon  the  down 
ward  road. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

AFTER  Mrs.  Pinkley  had  accepted  a  situation 
from  Dr.  Marks,  she  found  it  necessary  to  re 
move  to  a  dwelling  more  convenient  to  hia 
celebrated  Home,  in  which  she  might  be  said 
to  be  the  principal  attendant.  She  had  to 
search  for  some  days  before  she  could  find  a 
suitable  house,  yet  the  one  which  she  had  at 
last  secured  was  not  the  style  she  wished,  nor 
was  it  the  most  pleasantly  situaied  ;  but  it 
answered  her  purpose  for  the  time,  as  she 
did  not  expect  to  remain  in  it  very 
long.  The  building  was  one  of  a  row  of 
old,  dilapidated  structures  which  had,  perhaps, 
two  centuries  before  given  victims  to  the 
great  plague,  and  had  subsequently  escaped 
the  great  conflagration.  Any  way,  it  bore 
the  marks  of  age,  if  cracked  and  crumbling 
walls,  spreading  door-jambs,  and  sunken  lin 
tels  were  evidence  to  that  extent ;  its  late  oc 
cupant,  an  old  trading  Jew,  having  resided 
there  for  over  fifty  years,  until  he  was  at  last 
transferred  from  his  garret  to  his  grave,  and 
deposited  in  the  cemetery — only  j  ust  across  tha 
street — to  moulder  and  mingle  with  the  mor 


152 


EXETER  HALL. 


tal  remains  of  others  distinguished  as  the  de 
scendants  of  the  great,  ancient  Abraham. 

As  cleanliness  is  said  to  be  next  to  godliness, 
Mrs.  Pinkley,  therefore,  as  a  pious  woman, 
could  not  but  exhibit  a  due  regard  for  appear 
ances  ;  and  it  was  not  many  days  before  she 
had  the  lower  front  room — long  used  as  the 
general  store-room  for  the  odds  and  ends  upon 
which  the  old  Jew  advanced  petty  loans — 
cleared  of  its  cobwebs,  and,  with  the  remain 
der  of  the  house,  cleansed  and  renovated  as 
much  as  possible.  Indeed,  after  the  operation, 
the  old  store-room,  decked  out  with  its  new  car 
pet  and  old  furniture,  now  looked  more  like  the 
quiet  parlor  of  some  country  inn ;  and  it  was  the 
principal  reception-room  for  the  very  few  who 
ever  called  or  gained  admission  at  the  par 
ticular  hours  when  Mrs.  Pinkley  was  likely 
to  be  found  at  home.  During  her  absence, 
the  outer  door  was  generally  kept  locked, 
and  the  entire  place  left  in  charge  of  a  trusty 
hump-backed  girl  called  Bessy — a  waif,  who 
had  been  deserted  in  childhood,  who  never 
knew  a  parent,  and  who,  one  would  think, 
seemed  neither  to  know  nor  care  for  any  one 
else  but  Mrs.  Pinkley  ;  how  she  came  by  her, 
none  could  tell,  but  she  claimed  to  have  adopt 
ed  her  simply  through  a  humane  motive.  This 
unfortunate  being  had  been  trained  for  a  special 
purpose — trained  to  be  trusted  ;  every  act  was 
to  be  in  strict  conformity  to  the  wishes  of  her 
mistress ;  the  training  part  was,  no  doubt,  pe 
culiar,  for  if  she  did  not  learn  to  love  the  pro 
tector  she  had  found,  it  was  evident  that  fear 
had  a  powerful  influence  in  rendering  her 
obedience  perfect — Mrs.  Pinkley  had  a  slave 
whom  she  could  govern  at  will.  Bessy  was 
allowed  to  grow  up  in  the  grossest  ignorance ; 
she  took  to  house-keeping,  however — it  was  all 
she  had  been  ever  taught ;  she  knew  nothing 
of  religion,  except  that  she  was  told  that  there 
was  a  hell,  where,  after  the  woes  of  this  life 
were  ended,  she  would  find  multiplied  misery 
if  she  did  not  render  faithful  obedience  to  her 
mistress  ;  but  in  the  matter  of  house-keeping, 
she  could  manage  things  pretty  well,  and 
Mrs.  Pinkley  felt  satisfied  that  while  she  was 
away  Bessy  could  take  care  of  the  house,  and 
control  her  tongue  and  her  appetite  according 
to  instructions. 

The  December  day  had  been  gloomy  ;  it 
was  now  getting  toward  evening,  and  in 
the  upper  front-room  of  Mrs.  Pinkley's  domi 
cile  two  children,  a  boy  and  girl,  stood  silently 
together  at  one  of  the  windows  watching  the 
flight  of  the  dark  clouds,  or  speculating  upon 
the  probable  number  of  graves  in  the  Jewish 
cemetery  right  in  front  of  the  house.  The 
room  was  a  cold-looking  apartment,  scantily 
furnished ;  there  was  an  old,  rickety  table, 
a  few  old  chairs,  and  leaning  against  the 
rough  wall  was  a  kind  of  book-shelf,  upon 
which  lay  scattered  a  few  old  school-books,  a 
Testament,  and  a  number  of  religious  tracts  ; 
there  was  not  the  simplest  picture  or  engra 
ving  to  attract  the  children's  attention,  and 
when  they  grew  weary  looking  at  the  bare 
walls  of  the  room,  they  could  look  out  and 
see  graves  and  little  mounds  in  the  burial 
ground. 

There  were  yew-trees  along  the  walls  of  the 
cemetery,  and  though  monuments  were  few, 


still  Jewish  affection  could  be  traced  by  the 
number  of  willows  which  bent  like  mourners 
over  the  last  resting-place  of  many  of  those 
who  had  departed  this  life  resolute  unbelievers 
in  the  mission  of  the  Christian  Messiah. 
While  the  children  watched  vacantly  from 
the  window,  they  noticed  a  man  standing  un 
der  one  of  the  large  trees— or  rather  behind 
it — and  he  seemed  as  if  looking  at  them  or 
toward  the  house.  He  peered  cautiously  from 
time  to  time,  and  then  drew  back  as  if  to  es 
cape  observation.  Was  he,  too,  a  mourner  ? 
He  must  be.  After  he  stood  behind  the  tree 
for  some  time,  he  commenced  to  pace  slowly 
backward  and  forward,  treading  down  the 
dead  leaves,  and  while  still  watching  the 
house,  he  went  and  sat  upon  a  new  grave. 
He  wore  a  heavy  shawl  and  muffled  up  hia 
face  as  if  he  were  weeping,  but  still  he  looked 
at  the  house ;  and  the  children,  in  their  simpli 
city,  pitied  the  sorrowing  Jew. 

"  Dears,  how  quiet  you  are,"  said  Bessy, 
stealing  up  behind  them,  and  placing  a  hand 
upon  the  shoulder  of  the  boy  and  girl.  "  How 
still  you  do  keep  1  Ma'am  is  away 
again."  She  always  called  Mrs.  Pinkley 
"  ma'am,"  and  mostly  in  a  subdued  voice. 
"  Ma'am  is  away,  Misa  Alice — we  can  laugh 
now."  And  Bessy  made  a  wailing  kind  of  at 
tempt  at  laughter  which  almost  startled  the 
children.  "  Don't  'be  afeared  of  me,  dears." 
Why,  Master  Frank,  you  look  frightened  ! 
Poor  Bessy  loves  you  both,  and  you  know  I 
can  only  laugh  when  you  are  with  me. 
Ma'am  is  away  again,  and  I  want  to  laugh ; 
it  does  me  good — it  does." 

"  We  were  looking  at  that  man,"  said  the 
boy,  pointing  to  the  cemetery  ;  "  he  is  a  poor 
Jew — may  be  crying  for  his  children." 

"  Why,  dears,  Jews  have  got  no  hearts- 
ma'am  says  they  're  such  wicked  bad  uns.  She 
would  kill  'em  and  burn  'em,  I  know  she 
would.  She  says  they  are  worse  than — " 
and  Bessy  pointed  downward  significantly,  as 
if  afraid  to  utter  the  name  of  the  evil  one. 

"  Jews  have  tender  hearts,  like  other  peo 
ple,"  said  Alice,  "  for  you  know,  Bessy,  how 
it  made  us  all  cry  the  other  day  when  we  saw 
the  poor  old  Jew  so  sorry  at  the  big  funeral. 
Oh  !  how  sorry  he  was ;  they  could  scarcely 
get  him  away  from  the  grave ;  may  be  that 
poor  man  over  there  is  crying  for  somebody 
that's  dead." 

"  May  be,"  said  Bessy,  "  but  a  man  goes  to 
that  place  very  often  just  like  him,  and  he 
keeps  a  looking  over  this  way — see,  he's  look 
ing  at  us  now  !  Ma'am  doesn't  like  un,  and 
she  told  me  to  watch  un,  she  did,  and  to  keep 
the  door  fast,  and  to  let  no  one'  come  in  but 
the  doctor.  You  know  how  she  beat  me  the 
other  day  for  letting  the  man  in  with  the  lot 
of  toys — oh  1  such  beauties  ; — and  when  he 
got  in,  he  peeped  here  and  there,  and  asked 
if  there  was  any  children,  and  I  said,  no,  be- 
cause  ma'am  told  me — she  did." 

"  Oh !  I  wish  we  had  seen  them,"  said 
Alice  ; "  I  wish  we  could  see  something,  I  wish 
we  could  get  out  to  see  somebody — to  see 
the  nice  green  fields  in  the  country,  only  just 
for  an  hour." 

"  Dears,  dears,  ma'am  would  kill  me  if  I  was 
to  let  you  out,  or  let  any  body  come  in  again 


EXETER    HALL. 


153 


—she  would.  How  I  would  like  to  go  too  ! 
what  are  green  fields  like,  Miss  Alice — like 
that  ?" 

"  No,  Bessy,  not  like  that — that's  a  grave 
yard,  full  of  graves  ;  but  the  green  fields  that 
I  remember  are  away,  away  from  streets,  and 
houses,  and  noise — so  very  quiet ;  away  in  the 
country,  where  the  sun  shines,  and  where  we 
could  see  cows  and  little  lambs,  and  could 
pick  daisies  and  buttercups  in  the  springtime 
and — " 

"  O  Miss  Alice  !"  interrupted  Bessy,  and 
clapping  her  hands  in  ecstasy,  "do,  do  tell  me 
about  the  fields  ;  I  often  heerd  of  fields — green 
fields — tell  me  what  they  are  like."  Bessy  had 
but  a  faint  conception  of  what  they  were  ;  she 
had  never  been  outside  the  gloom  of  the  city, 
still  she  had  an  idea  that  the  country  and  its 
hills  and  fields  might  be  part  of  heaven, 
ab'out  which  the  children  spoke  sometimes. 

In  her  eagerness  to  hear,  she  sat  upon  the 
floor,  as  she  often  did  when  she  was  alone 
with  them,  placing  one  on  each  side  of  her. 
They  formed  a  strange  little  group  in  the  dull 
light  before  the  window.  Bessy's  pinched 
and  worn-looking  face  made  her  appear  old  ; 
though  she  was  scarcely  seventeen,  she  might 
have  been  taken  for  thirty  ;  she  seemed  to 
have  had  no  childhood,  but  to  have  passed 
from  infancy  to  maturity  at  one  dreary 
bound.  Her  life  so  far  had  been  but  a  bleak 
period  of  drudgery,  hardship,  and  oppression, 
and  the  only  real  joyful  moments  of  her  ex 
istence  were  those  spent  in  the  society  of 
these  children  ;  they  were  the  only  beings 
that  had  ever  been  truly  kind  to  her,  and 
they  pitied  Bessy  in  her  desolation.  Un 
known  to  Mrs.  Pinkley,  they  taught  her  to 
read  ;  for  though  that  stern  Christian  woman 
professed  to  be  a  patron  of  knowledge  and  of 
Sunday-schools,  yet  she  never  permitted  her 
dependent  to  waste  a  moment  with  books — 
Bessy  in  gross  ignorance  served  her  purpose 
better.  The  children,  however,  were  not  sus 
pected,  and  they  took  pleasure  in  imparting 
to  Bessy  a  share  of  their  little  stock  of  know 
ledge,  and  Bessy,  in  return,  loved  them  with  all 
the  intensity  of  her  benevolent  nature  ;  they 
seemed  to  be,  like  herself,  the  inheritors  of  af 
fliction.  Alice,  the  older  child,  was  about  ten 
years  of  age,  a  delicate-looking  girl ;  she  had 
beautiful  brown  hair,  which  Bessy  took  great 
delight  in  twisting  into  long  curls.  Frank 
might  be  two  years  younger ;  he  was  a  healthy 
boy,  very  intelligent  for  his  age,  and  singu 
larly  independent  in  his  manner  of  thinking. 
For  more  than  a  year  Bessy  had  been  almost 
their  only  companion.  Mrs.  Pinkley  was  gen 
erally  away  during  the  day  and  often  during 
the  night,  and,  when  thus  left  alone,  as  soon 
as  Bessy  hurried  through  with  her  work,  they 
would  all  sit  together  in  the  upper  room,  and 
the  children  would  tell  of  what  they  had  seen 
of  the  world  outside  of  London,  and  tell  of 
their  mother,  and  of  the  nice  home  they  once 
had  ;  and  when  they  wept,  as  they  often  did, 
for  that  mother  and  home,  Bessy  would  weep 
too,  and  be  their  only  comforter. 

After  Alice  had  delighted  Bessy  with  a  de 
scription  of  the  fields,  trees,  hills,  and  streams 
of  the  quiet  country,  and  had  contrasted  cot 
tages  and  gardens  with  old  houses  in  dirty, 


crowded  city  thoroughfares,  Frank  did  his 
part  by  hearing  Bessy  spell  her  hard  words, 
and  then  he  assisted  her  to  read  the  last  tract 
which  had  been  left  with  him  by  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley  ;  it  gave  a  terrible  description  of  the  final 
judgment,  and  of  hell,  and  of  the  woeful 
doom  of  the  wicked ;  and  it  was  completed 
by  the  three  following  verses,  from  one  of  the 
most  orthodox  hymn-books  :  * 

"The  {rreat  archangel's  trump  shall  sound, 

(While  twice  ten  thousand  thunders  roar,) 
Tear  up  the  graves  and  cleave  the  ground, 
And  make  the  greedy  sea  restore. 

"  The  greedy  sea  shall  yield  her  dead, 

The  earth  no  more  her  slain  conceal ; 
Sinners  shall  lift  their  guilty  head, 
And  shrink  to  see  a  yawning  hell. 

"  We,  while  the  stars  from  heaven  shall  fall, 
And  mountains  are  on  mountains  hurled, 
Shall  stand  unmoved  amidst  them  all, 
And  smile  to  see  a  burning  world." 

Poor  Bessy  shuddered  ;  she  looked  in  the 
boy's  face,  but  she  saw  no  change— no  terror ; 
neither  did  his  sister  seem  to  be  much  af 
fected. 

"  Dears,  are  you  not  afeared  ?  Isn't  that 
dreadful?  Don't  let's  read  any  more  of  it, 
Master  Frank.  O  my !  O  my  !  Ma'am  says  • 
it's  all  true — she  does  ;  better  we'd  never  been 
born — never  been  born." 

"  Bessy,  it's  not  true,"  said  the  boy,  try 
ing  to  assure  her  ;  "  my  ma  often  told  me  so  ; 
she  said  there  was  no  such  place  as  hell,  and 
that  God  was  good  and  loved  every  body,  and 
would  never  burn  them  up." 

"  He  won't  ?  0  dears,  dears  I  I  hope  he 
won't ;  dears,  I  hope !" 

"  He  won't,  Bessy,"  continued  the  boy ; 
"God  never  made  sucli  a  horrid  place;  it  waa 
the  priests  who  made  hell — ma  said  that, 
too."  f 

"  O  Miss  Alice  I  isn't  it  dreadful  to  think 
on  ?  I  could  love  God  better  if  there  was  no 
hell — I  could.  I  wouldn't  want  to  hide  from 
him  so  if  he  was  as  good  to  ine,  dears,  as  you 
are — I  wouldn't." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  God,  Bessy,"  said  Frank. 
"  I  remember  that  ma  used  to  tell  us  that 
cruel  men  make  a  cruel  God  ;  if  I  was  very, 
very  sick,  and  going  to  die  to-morrow,  I 
wouldn't  be  afraid." 

"  God  loves  all  good  people,  Bessy,"  said 
Alice  ;  "  I  think  he  loves  every  body ;  he  lovea 
you,  for  you  are  good — I  am  sure  he  does." 

"  Oh  !  but  I'm  very  wicked,  dear — I  am. 
I  would  like  to  be  very  good,  Miss  Alice — I 
would,  but  I'm  a  very  bad  un,  I  suppose ; 
for  ma'am  says  I'm  so  terribly  wicked — she 
does  ;  but  you  know  I  didn't  make  myself;  if 
I  did,  I'd  be  a  good  bit  better — I  would,  Misfl 
Alice.  God  pity  us  all !" 

"  God  will  pity  us  all,  Bessy,"  said  the  chil 
dren  solemnly. 

During  the  pause  which  followed,  there  was  a 
loud  thump  heard  at  the  front-door.  The  chil 
dren  were  startled,  the  boy  became  rather  agi 
tated,  and  grew  suddenly  pale  ;  and  as  Bessy 
moved  off  on  tip-toe,  she  beckoned  significant 
ly  and  whispered,  "  Hish,  hish,  dears !  'tis  th 
doctor,  'tis  th'  doctor." 


*  Wesley's  Hymns. 


t  See  Note  D. 


154 


EXETER    HALL. 


The  children  instinctively  drew  into  a  cor 
ner  of  the  room,  and  the  man  in  the  cemetery 
moved  from  the  grave  on  which  he  had  been 
sitting,  and  stood  looking  at  the  house  again 
from  behind  the  big  tree. 

Before  Bessy  had  time  to  reach  the  door, 
another  loud  knock  was  given.  She  had  no 
occasion  to  look  through  the  side-lights  to  be 
assured  of  who  was  waiting  for  admittance, 
for  already  she  could  hear  Doctor  Buster  mut 
tering  either  prayers  or  curses  at  her  delay, 
and,  as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened,  he 
stamped  in  rudely  past  her,  and  in  a  gruff, 
impatient  voice  asked  for  Mrs.  Pinkley." 

"  She  be  out,  sir,"  said  Bessy,  almost  trem 
bling. 

"  Out  ?  the  devil !  How  long  has  she  been 
out  ?  When  will  she  be  back  ?" 

"  More'n  an  hour  or  two,  sir ;  she's  a  coming 
back  soon — soon,  sir." 

"  When  is  soon,  you  jade — you  damned 
hump  ?  Where  are  the  children  ?" 

The  doctor  was  evidently  annoyed,  irri 
tated.  He  did  not  expect  to  find  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley  out,  and  her  absence  and  may  be  other 
matters  had  ruffled  his  temper.  He  did  not 
wait  for  Bessy's  answer,  and,  as  he  mounted  the 
creaking  stairs,  the  children  tried  to  crouch 
'further  into  the  corner,  and  the  man  in  the 
cemetery  moved  closer  toward  the  house. 

The  room  was  gloomy,  and  as  the  doctor 
paused  in  the  doorway,  his  dark  form  loomed 
up  in  the  dutky  light  like  a  great  spectre,  and 
when  his  eye  rested  upon  the  little  fugitives 
in  the  corner,  he  seemed  to  get  rather  angry, 
and  said  in  a  sharp,  upbraiding  manner : 
"Why,  what  do  you  hide  there  for,  you  stu 
pid  fools  ?  Whom  did  you  expect  to  see  com 
ing?  Come  out  of  that — come  here!" 

The  frightened  boy  sat  still,  but  Alice 
moved  toward  her  father  ;  yet  she  approached 
him  in  a  hesitating  manner,  which  did  not 
tend  to  make  him  more  amiable. 

"Come  on,  girl — do.     Am  I  an  elephant?" 

"  O  pa  !  we  were  a  little  afraid  ;  for  a  man 
came  into  the  house  the  other  day,  you  know, 
and — "  and  the  girl  hesitated  still  more  in 
trying  to  frame  some  excuse. 

"  A  man  in  the  other  day !  I  know  that. 
Was  he  here  again  ?  Did  that  cursed  hump 
back  let  him  in  a  second  time?" 

"  No,  pa  ;  no,  sir,  Bessy  did  not,  she  didn't, 
indeed,  pa  ;  but  we  saw  a  man  over  there  this 
evening,  and  we  were  afraid."  And  Alice 
pointed  to  the  burial-ground  across  the  street. 

The  doctor  went  quickly  to  the  window, 
and  looked  eagerly  out  toward  the  place,  but 
the  man  in  the  cemetery  suddenly  drew  back 
behind  a  tree,  and,  as  it  was  getting  dark,  the 
doctor  made  no  discovery. 

"  I  see  no  one  ;  you  mustn't  be  afraid  of  your 
shadow.  What  are  you  skulking  there  for, 
sir?  Come  here!  What  is  the  brat  think 
ing  of?" 

"  Frank  was  afraid  too,  pa,"  said  Alice,  try 
ing  to  be  cheerful.  "  Come,  Frank,  pa  has  got 
a  nice  book  for  us." 

The  boy  left  his  corner  rather  reluctantly. 
Alice  took  his  hand  and  led  him  on,  and, 
when  he  ventured  to  glance  upward  at  his 
father,  he  saw  him  standing  near  the  window 
frowning,  and  holding  his  gold-headed  cane. 


"What  have  you  been  doing,  sir?  You 
look  as  if  you  had  been  guilty  of  something," 
said  the  doctor. 

"  Oh !  nothing,  sir,  indeed,  nothing ;  but  I 
said  my  lessons  to  Alice,  and  we  read  a  tract 
for  Bessy." 

"You  like  tracts,  do  you?"  said  the  doctor 
ironically,  and  he  glanced  at  the  latest  doc 
trinal  effusion  of  the  society,  the  reading  of 
which  had  so  alarmed  poor  Bessy.  "  Any 
thing  rather  than  read  your  Testament — tracts 
or  any  thing." 

"  We  read  it  every  day,  pa,  we  do,  indeed," 
said  Alice. 

"  You  read !  Yes,  you  read,  but  do  you  be 
lieve — does  he  ?" 

"  He  does,  pa,  I  believe,  and  so  does  Frank, 
almost  all — almost  every  thing."  And  Alice 
nearly  trespassed  on  the  truth  to  try  and  con 
ciliate  her  father. 

"  Almost !"  retorted  the  doctor ;  "  those  who 
almost  believe  will  be  almost  saved,  think  of 
that !  Almost  won't  do  ;  it  must  be  a  full  and 
entire  belief.  I  have  heard  that  this  wicked 
brat  almost  believes — almost ;  that  won't  do 
for  me.  If  he  doubts  that  God  will  be  re 
venged,  if  he  doubts  that  there  is  a  hell,  he 
may  find  one,  as  I  hope  all  unbelievers  will 
do.  He  must  believe  it."  The  doctor  stamp 
ed  upon  the  floor  as  he  uttered  the  last  four 
words,  and  tlje  boy  trembled  as  he  stood  be 
fore  him. 

"  Indeed,  pa,"  pleaded  Alice,  "  we  read  a 
good  deal  every  day  ;  we  like  the  Testament 
very  much.  To-day  we  read  such  nice  chap 
ters — we  read  of  how  Christ  preached  forgive 
ness,  of  how  he  fed  the  multitude,  and  of  how 
he  cured  lepers,  and  poor,  sick  people,  and  of 
how  he  blessed  little  children,  and  of  how  he 
wept  at  the  grave  when  he  raised  the  dead 
Lazarus.  You  know,  pa,  that  every  one 
would  like  to  believe  these  things — and  we 
would  too." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see  ;  like  a  good  many  others, 
you  would  like  to  believe  in  all  mercies,  in  all 
forgiveness,  but  what  of  divine  justice?  God 
must  be  avenged.  Now,  let  me  see  what  you 
know  on  this  point."  The  doctor  drew  a 
chair  and  sat  down,  as  if  prepared  to  catechise. 
'•  I  have  ordered  you  to  read  the  Bible,  now 
let  me  test  your  knowledge. 

"  What  is  said  in  the  Old  Testament  with 
respect  to  the  vengeance  of  the  Lord  ?  Will 
he  be  avenged  ?" 

Alice  gave  the  answer  out  of  the  book  of 
Nahum,  1st  chapter,  3d  and  Cth  verses  :  "  God 
/.v  jealous,  and  the  Lord  revengeth  ;  the  Lord 
rcvcugeth,  and  in  furious :  the  Lord  will  take 
vengeance  on  his  adversaries,  and  he  reserveth 
'<rr«th-  for  his  enemies.  Who  can  stand  before 
his  indignation?  and  who  can  abide  in  the 
flerceuess  of  his  anger?  his  fury  is  poured  out 
like  fire,  and  the  rocks  are  thrown  down  by 
him." 

"  What  are  the  divine  threats  against  the 
disobedient  ?" 

She  answered  from  Leviticus,  chapter  26  : 
27,  and  from  Isaiah  34  :  3 :  "  And  if  ye  will 
not  for  all  this  hearken  unto  me,  but  walk 
contrary  to  me:  Then  will  I  walk  contrary 
unto  you  also  in  fury,  and  I,  even  I,  will  chas 
tise  you  seven  times  for  your  sins.  And  ye 


EXEETR    HALL. 


shall  eat,  the  flesh  of  your  sons,  and  the  flesh 
of  your  daughters  shall  ye  eat.  And  I  will 
destroy  your  high  places,  and  cut  do\vn  your 
images,  und  cast  your  carcasses  upon  the 
carcasses  of  your  idols,  and  my  soul  shall  ab 
hor  you. 

"  Their  slain  shall  be  cast  out,  and  their 
stink  shall  come  up  out  of  their  carcasses,  and 
the  mountains  shall  be  melted  with  their 
blood."  (Isaiah  34:  3.) 

"  Were  they  not  to  be  cursed  by  the  Lord  ? 
What  were  the  maledictions?" 

Again  she  answered,  reciting  several  verses 
from  the  28th  chapter  of  Deuteronomy  :  "  But 
it  shall  come  to  pass,  if  thou  wilt  not  heark 
en  unto  the  voice  of  the  Lord  thy  God,  to 
observe  to  do  all  his  commandments  and  his 
statutes  which  I  command  thee  this  day,  that 
all  these  curses  shall  come  upon  thee  :  Cursed 
shn It  thou  be  in  the  city,  and  cursed  aJialt  thou 
be  in  the  field.  Cursrd  shall  be  thy  basket  and 
thy  store.  Cursed  shall,  be  the  fruit  of  thy 
body,  and  the  fruit  of  thy  laud,  the  increase 
of  thy  kine,  and  the  flocks  of  thy  sheep. 
Cursed  xlmlt  thou  be  when  thou  comest  in, 
and  cursed  xhalt  thou  be  when  thou  g, >est  out. 
The  Lord  shall  send  upon  thee  cursing,  vexa 
tion,  and  rebuke,  in  all  that  thou  set  test  thine 
hand  unto  for  to  do,  until  thon  be  destroyed, 
and  until  thou  perish  quickly:  because  of  the 
wickedness  of  thy  doings  whereby  thou  hast 
forsaken  me.  The  Lord  shall  make  the  pesti 
lence  cleave  unto  thee  until  he  have  consumed 
thee  from  off  the  land,  whither  thou  goest  to 
possess  it.  The  Lord  shall  smite  thee  with  a 
consumption,  and  with  a  fever,  and  with  an 
inflammation,  and  with  an  extreme  burning, 
and  with  the  sword,  and  with  blasting,  and 
with  mildew  ;  and  they  shall  pursue  thee  un 
til  thou  perish."  She  paused,  as  if  wearied  with 
the  weight  of  cursing,  and  the  doctor  seemed 
to  exult  in  the  proofs. 

"  Ha !  that's  it ;  no  silly  tempering  of  mer 
cy  here,  no  weak  relenting,  no  robbery  of 
divine  justice !  Now,  what  is  to  be  the  doom 
of  unbelievers  and  wicked  ?"  And  he  rubbed 
his  hands  in  anticipation  of  the  answer. 

"  The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and 
all  the  nations  that  forget  God."  (Psalm  9  : 
17.)  "  Upon  the  wicked  he  shall  rain  snares, 
fire,  and  brimstone,  and  a  horrible  tempest ; 
this  shall  be  the  portion  of  their  cup."  (Psalm 
11 :  6.)  "  I  will  be  unto  them  as  a  lion  ;  as  a 
leopard  by  the  way  will  I  observe  them.  I 
will  meet  them  as  a  br ar  that  is  bereaved  of 
her  whelps,  and  will  rend  the  caul  of  their 
heart,  and  there  will  I  devour  them  like  a 
lion."  (Ilosea  13 :  7,  8.) 
.  "  Prove  that  God's  wrath  will  not  be  finally 
appeased." 

"  Mine  eye  shall  not  spare,  neither  will  I 
Lave  pity."  (Ezek.  7 : 9.)  "  I  also  will  laugh  at 
vour  calamity ;  I  will  mock  when  your  fear 
cometh."  (Pro.  1 : 26.) "  When  your  fear  cometh 
as  a  desolation,  and  your  destruction  cometh 
as  a  whirlwind,  when  distress  and  anguish 
come  upon  you,  then  shall  ye  call  upon  me, 
but  I  will  not  answer."  (27  :  29.) 

"  Give  me  a  few  texts  from  the  New  Testa 
ment  in  proof  of  eternal  punishment." 

She  answered,  "  The  Lord  Jesus  shall  be 
revealed  from  heaven  with  his  mighty  angels, 


in  flaming  fire  taking  vengeance  on  them  that 
know  not  God,  and  that  obey  n'>t  the  Gospel 
of  our  Lord  Jes-is  Christ.  Who  shall  be 
punished  with  everlasting  destruction  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  from  the  glory 
of  his  power."  (2Thes.  1 : 7,  8,  9.)  "  The  smoke 
of  their  torment  ascendeth  up  forever  am1 
ever."  (Kev.lt:  11.) 

"  Will  not  these  judgments  be  approved  of 
by  the  righteous  ?'" 

"  He  that  sitteth  in  the  heavens  shall  laugh  ; 
the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision."  (Psalm 
2  :  4!)  "  The  righteous  see  it,  and  are  glad  ; 
and  the  innocent  laugh  them  to  scorn."  (Job 
22  :  19.)  "  The  righteous  shall  see,  and  fear, 
and  shall  laugh  at  him."  (Psalm  52  :  6.) 
"  Let  Mount  Zion  rejoice  ;  let  the  daughters 
of  Judah  be  glad,  because  of  thy  judgments." 
(Psalm  48  :  11.)  "  The  righteous  shall  rejoice 
when  he  seeth  the  vengeance ;  he  shall 
wash  his  feet  in  the  blood  of  the  wicked." 
(Psalm  58  :  10.) 

"  Here  is  sufficient  evidence  !  Nothing 
about  mercy  or  forgiveness,  no  yielding  to 
pleadings  for  pity  ;  and  you  dare  to  doubt 
these  denunciations,"  said  he,  turning  savage 
ly  to  the  boy. 

"  0  pa !"  again  interceded  Alice,  "  he  does 
not  imderstand  it ;  he  will  believe  all  soon." 

"  Soon  !  he  must  believe  now ;  curse  him, 
does  he  want  to  follow  his  mother?  does  he 
ever  say  his  prayers  ?" 

"  I  pray,  and  Bessy  prays,  pa  ;  we  all  pray 
sometimes."  And  Alice  now  began  to  trem 
ble  as  she  stood  before  her  angry  parent. 

"  Does  he  pray,  I  ask  ?  Have  you  prayed 
to-day  V"  said  he,  scowling  down  upon  Frank. 

The  boy  could  not  utter  a  word ;  he  held 
his  sister  firmly  by  the  hand,  bent  his  head, 
and  remained  silent. 

"  Pray,  you  infernal  imp  !  none  of  your 
mother's  doings  here — quick,  or  I'll  make  you 
pray." 

The  little  fellow  could  scarcely  stand  ;  he 
looked  up  imploringly,  his  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears ;  he  knelt  down,  he  tried  to  re 
member  a  prayer,  a  verse,  a  text,  or  any  thing, 
but  could  only  utter,  "  Our  Father — deliver 
us  from  evil ;  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sin 
ner  1" 

0  dear  !  dear  child,  God  ha'  mercy  on  you 
now,"  said  Bessy,  clapping  her  hands  to 
gether  and  looking  into  the  room. 

"  Begone,  you  beast,"  said  the  now  infuriated 
doctor,  banging  the  door  in  Bessy's  face.  And 
while  the  poor  creature  stood  upon  the  dark 
stairway,  wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing, 
the  doctor  rushed  back,  and  shouted  almost 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  across  the  street, 
"  Pray,  damn  you  !  imp  of  your  mother ;  if  you 
don't  "pray  at  once,  I'll  take  your  cursed  life." 

Alice  was  almost  ready  to  faint  ;  she  still 
held  her  brother's  hand  ;  he  could  not  speak  ; 
he  tried  to  get  up  to  recede  a  step  or  two,  but 
before  he  could  move  away,  his  father  struck 
him  several  quick  blows  and  smashed  his  cane. 
Alice  screamed,  and  fell  fainting.  Bessy  rush 
ed  in,  but  before  she  had  time  to  shield  the 
prostrate  boy,  the  doctor  eeized  the  cane  by 
its  broken  end,  and,  with  one  mighty  blow," 

*  See  Note  I. 


156 


EXETER    HALL. 


buried  its  heavy  golden  handle  in  the  child's 
head. 

The  man  in  the  cemetery  heard  Bessy's 
wild  wail ;  he  bounded  over  the  wall  and 
rushed  toward  the  house.  Mrs.  Pinkley  had 
just  hurriedly  entered  before  him  ;  he  heard 
the  commotion  in  the  upper  room,  and  her 
sharp  accusations  upon  the  discovery  of  the 
crime. 

"  O  madman,  madman  !  you've  done  it 
now  ;  what  shall  we  do '?"  she  cried  ;  "  is  all 
forever  lost?  What  shall  we  do?  I  caution 
ed  you  this  morning ;  see  how  you  have  end 
ed  the  day." 

Muffling  his  face  closely,  the  man  stole  up 
the  stairway  and  peeped  into  the  room  from 
the  dark  lobby ;  he  drew  back  in  horror  ! 
There  lay  the  dying  boy  in  a  pool  of  blood — 
his  sister  was  in  a  swoon.  Bessy  knelt  wail 
ing  at  his  side,  and  Mrs.  Pinkley  stood  before 
the  bewildered  doctor,  hurling  bitter  re 
proaches  and  cursing  his  madness.  The  man 
remained  but  a  few  moments  ;  he  left  the 
house  as  quietly  as  he  had  entered.  He  went 
his  way  undiscovered  ;  he  did  not  again  enter 
the  burial-ground.  See,  he  hurries  away  ! 
Who  is  to  hear  his  terrible  tidings  ? 

It  is  nearly  dark  ;  there  is  another  great 
funeral  in  the  Jewish  cemetery.  Death  stalks 
about  the  place,  and  people  are  in  sorrow. 
Is  it  his  grim  carnival?  The  night  wind 
begins  to  moan  through-the  leafless  willows 
and  to  mingle  with  the  sobbings  which  are 
heard  around.  But  stay  ;  'tis  the  triumph  of 
woe— here  is  another  victim  !  Is  it  a  Chris 
tian  corpse  ?  Ah  !  how  poor  Bessy  weeps. 
Say,  who  shall  weep  for  her  ?  Hearts  of 
pity  I  see  those  closed  eyes  and  that  little 
pale,  upturned  face,  see  that  little  hand 
clutched  in  gore !  Alas!  how  that  little  form 
already  stiffens  in  death.  Wrap  it  up  hastily 
in  its  shroud  ;  hide  it,  'tis  a  foul  sight  ;  get 
ready  its  grave — take  it  out  stealthily — take 
it  out  in  the  night,  that  none  may  ever  know 
the  tearless  mourners. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

NIGHT  had  set  in  for  some  time ;  it  was  very 
dark  ;  the  large  street-lamp  in  front  of  the 
massive  door  of  a  large,  dreary-looking  house 
flashed  upon  the  polished  door-plate,  and  the 
wayfarer  who  could  read  might  trace,  almost  at 
a  glance,  the  words,  "  Doctor  Andrew  Marks's 
Private  Asylum."  This  was  his  celebrated 
Home,  his  Mditon  de  Sante  ;  there  was  a  still 
ness  about  the  place,  and  but  few  lights  could 
be  seen  in  its  upper  barred  windows.  Many 
of  the  afflicted  ones  had  already  been  obliged 
to  retire  to  their  narrow  rooms  to  rave  or 
scramble  upon  narrow  beds,  and  kings,  beg 
gars,  emperors,  and  messiahs,  the  hopeful  and 
the  desponding,  were  again  secured  by  bolt 
and  bar,  and  left  alone  to  sing  or  whine, 
command  or  implore,  according  to  the  mood 
of  a  disordered  imagination. 

Doctor  Marks  was  alone  in  his  study  ;  he  had 
mited  liis  patients,  and  was  now  looking  over 
the  evening  papers.  A  few  attendants  moved 
noiselessly  about,  and  the  keeper  of  the  wards, 


who  was  to  be  on  duty  until  after  midnight, 
paced  leisurely  up  and  down  the  long  hall 
between  the  prison-like  dormitories.  .Now 
and  then  the  stillness  would  be  broken  by  the 
whimpering  complaints  of  some  neglected 
monarch  strutting  in  his  den,  or  by  some  des 
ponding  penitent  moaning  for  mercy.  But 
the  keeper  heeded  not ;  he  had  often. been  be 
sought  by  potentates,  and  was  now  getting 
accustomed  to  their  appeals,  and  could  allow 
their  humble  petitions  to  remain  unanswer 
ed  with  all  the  indifference  of  a  god.  But 
the  keeper  was  not,  however,  as  hard-hearted  ; 
he  often  stopped  at  one  end  of  the  dim  hall 
to  listen  sadly  to  the  mutterings  of  spiritual 
despair  which  fell  in  doleful  words  from  the 
quivering  lips  of  one  who  fancied  that  God 
had  utterly  forsaken  her,  and  that  her  day 
of  grace  had  forever  passed ;  and  day  and 
night,  through  bright  hours,  or  solemn  dark 
ness,  the  sad  burden  of"  Lost,  lost,  forever  lost" 
could  be  heard  in  the  same  sad  monotone 
almost  continually.  He  had  just  been  listen 
ing  to  the  doleful  repetition ;  all  else  had 
become  tolerably  quiet,  as  if  one  great  grief 
had  silenced  all  the  rest.  Looking  care 
fully  around,  he  then  lessened  the  light  in 
the  hall-lamp  and  proceeded  cautiously  along 
the  passage  ;  at  its  end  there  was  a  short  stair 
way  ;  this  he  ascended,  and  went  along  a 
narrow  way  leading  to  a  few  rooms  at  the 
back  of  the  building.  Mrs.  Pinkley  general 
ly  occupied  one  of  these ;  she  was  now  ab 
sent  ;  and  the  keeper,  having  paused  a  moment 
or  two,  and  finding  that  all  was  quiet,  gave 
a  peculiar  tap  at  the  door  of  the  adjoining 
room ;  then  drawing  a  note  from  his  pocket, 
he  hastily  thrust  it  under  the  door-way,  and 
returned  to  his  station  in  the  lower  hall. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock ;  the  night-bell 
was  rung  briskly,  the  front-door  was  open 
ed,  and  Mrs.  Pinkley  entered.  She  went 
into  Doctor  Marks's  study  ;  she  looked  flurried 
and  excited,  and,  throwing  her  cloak  aside, 
stood  in  front  of  the  table  at  which  the  doctor 
was  sitting.  He  had  been  writing  ;  he  laid 
his  pen  aside,  and  looked  up  at  his  visitor ;  she 
was  mute.  Mrs.  Pinkley  seemed  unable  to 
speak  ;  the  doctor  began  to  feel  surprised ; 
there  she  stood  like  a  statue,  and  he  was 
about  to  question  her,  when  she  at  last  man 
aged  to  exclaim,  "  0  doctor,  doctor !  I  have 
such  dreadful  tidings!  dreadful  tidings!  Oh! 
yes,  yes,  yes  ;  dreadful,  terrible,  fearful ;  what 
shall  be  done?  what  shall  be  done?  0  doc 
tor,  doctor !" 

"  For  heaven's  sake !"  said  the  doctor, 
becoming  alarmed,  "  what  is  the  matter ?  You 
look  frightened ;  sit  down,  try  and  be  calm, 
let  me  know  what  is  the  matter."  The  doctor 
drew  a  chair,  and  almost  forced  the  woman 
into  it.  "  Sit  down,  sit  down,  and  tell  me  what 
is  wrong." 

"  0  good  God  I   'tis  terrible !      How  shall  ; 
I  begin  to  tell  you — how  am  I  to  commence? 
'Tis  a  death  story,  a  story  of  blood !"    And 
while   Mrs.   Pinkley   was  making  efforts  to 
appear  distracted — indeed   she  actually  fan 
cied   some    impending  danger — a  man   was 
looking  in,  and   listening  from  the  outside 
he  could  see  into  the  room  through  a  small 
opening  in  the  shutter ;  he  heard  her  passiun 


EXETER    HALL. 


157 


nte  words :  lie  was  well  muffled  up,  and  as 
he  heard  the  step  of  some  wandering  police 
man,  he  moved  away  from  the  window  un 
til  it  passed;  he  then  resumed  his  position, 
as  if  determined  to  catch  every  word  and 
watch  every  motion. 

"  Mrs.  Pinkley,"  said  the  doctor,  assuming 
the  calmest  possible  tone,  "  pray  tell  me 
what  has  happened ;  is  medical  aid  necessary  ? 
let  me  know  at  once." 

"0  doctor!  you  can  be  of  little  service 
now  ;  'tis,  I  fear,  too  late,  too  late ;  let  me 
think  a  moment,  and  I  will  tell  you  all."  She 
stooped  and  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  as 
if  afraid  to  look  at  the  light  or  at  the  man 
before  her.  "You  remember,  doctor,  that  I 
told  you  this  morning  I  wanted  to  see  Doctor 
Buster  ;  I  heer'd  he  was  back.  He  was  away 
for  some  days,  and  I  thought  he  might  want 
to  know  about  the  children,  and  I  wanted 
to  tell  him  how  his  wife  was  troubled  with 
these  spasms,  so  as  in  case  any  thing  happen 
ed  that  he  might  be  prepared  for  the  worst. 
Well,  I  saw  the  doctor,  but  I  was  delayed 
longer  than  I  expected.  I  Imrried  back,  but 
before  I  came  here,  I  just  looked  into  my 
own  house  to  see  if  things  was  all  right. 
I  met  Bessy  at  the  door ;  there  was  some 
thing  wild  in  her  look.  O  that  unfortu 
nate  girl,  that  I  tried  to  save  from  misery  and 
starvation  !  Years  ago  I  took  pity  on  her ;  she 
was  a  humpbacked  foundling,  and  I  brought 
her  up  as  if  she  was  my  own  child.  I've 
had  a  world  of  trouble  with  her,  doctor ;  I 
tried  to  teach  her  something,  but  she  was 
only  a  halt-idiot  at  best.  'Twas  in  a  place 
like  this  she  ought  to  have  been — I  see  it 
uow  when  it's  too  late.  However,  when  I  got 
the  doctor's  children  to  my  charge,  she  seem 
ed  to  take  to  them  for  a  time,  but  she  was 
often  very  cross  and  headstrong,  and  cruel ; 
but  of  course  the  children  wouldn't  tell  me, 
the  poor  tilings  bore  with  a  good  deal  that 
I  never  heerd  of.  Anyhow,  lately — and  it  was 
by  mere  chance  I  discovered — I  found  that 
she  got  acquainted  with  some  man  who  she 
kept  about  the  place,  and  I  also  found  that 
she  sometimes  actually  let  him  into  the  house  ; 
just  think  of  that.  I  missed  some  things;  he 
was,  I  suppose,  one  of  our  street  thieves ; 
what  a  companion  for  an  honest  girl !  She 
said  he  was  some  kind  of  a  peddler ;  and  when 
I  reproved  her  for  her  vile  conduct — I  only  said 
a  few  wor.ls — she  grew  terribly  angry,  and 
began  to  threaten,  as  she  always  did  when 
I  made  the  least  complaint.  I  often  heerd 
her  say  that  if  I  scolded  her  she  would 
make  away  with  herself,  or  take  poison,  or 
do  something  very  bad ;  you  know,  doctor, 
that  I  am  but  a  poor  scold,  but  I  got  accus 
tomed  to  Bessy's  threats  and  I  didn't  mind 
them.  I  mentioned  this  matter  once,  I  think, 
to  Doctor  Buster,  but  he  only  treated  it  as  a 
silly  joke;  in  tact,  he  is  too  kind-hearted  a 
man  to  think  bad  of  a  creature  that  seemed 
so  forlorn  at  times ;  indeed,  he  pitied  Bessy 
as  much  a*  I  did.  However,  when  I  lel't  the 
h  mse  this  afternoon  to  come  here,  every  thing 
appeared  quiet  enough,  except  that  I  noticed 
that  Bessy  had  but  little  to  say — she  was 
rather  surly.  Ah!  what  a  confiding  fool  I 
was;  for  when  I  returned  to  the  house,  just 


about  dark,  what  did  I  see?  O  doctor! 
'twas  terrible.  When  I  went  in,  I  could 
see  no  person  ;  every  thing  was  very  quiet, 
as  I  said.  I  called,  no  one  answered,  no  Bes 
sy  could  be  seen.  I  began  to  grow  alarm 
ed,  I  called  again  and  again  ;  I  ran  up-staira 
at  last,  and,  when  I  looked  into  the  room, 
gracious  God !  what  did  I  find  ?  I  thought 
I  would  drop ;  little  Frank  lay  on  the  floor, 
the  blood  streaming  from  him,  and  when  I 
screamed  and  tried  to  lift  him,  he  was  dead  ! 
Oh !  yes,  doctor,  dead !  A  heart  of  stone  would 
then  pity  me;  I  must  have  fainted.  When 
I  got  al')le  to  move  about  again,  I  laid  the 
poor  child  on  the  bed,  and  put  a  covering 
over  him.  While  doing  this,  my  suspicions 
was  provoked  ;  I  thought  of  the  wicked  girl, 
and  of  her  bad  companion — I  guessed  the  truth 
at  once!  I  thought  of  that  horrid  Bessy, 
and  of  the  vagabond  she  was  encouraging. 
I  saw  at  once  that  I  was  robbed ;  and  while 
looking  here  and  there  in  the  room,  I  was 
terrified  by  a  loud  scream.  I  heard  a  noise 
or  struggle  in  Bessy's  room  ;  I  rail  in,  and 
there  she  lay  on  her  bed,  as  I  thought,  in 
some  kind  of  fit.  She  was  foaming  at  the 
mouth  and  grasping  at  the  bed-clothes.  She 
had  taken  poison.  The  cup  was  on  the  ta 
ble  by  the  bedside,  and  there  was  sufficient 
left  in  it  to  satisfy  me  that  she  had  com 
mitted  a  double-murder — I  almost  felt  cer 
tain  of  this.  O  the  unfortunate  wretch !  I 
forgot  to  tell  you,  that  when  I  went  to  see 
Doctor  Buster  this  morning,  I  took  Alice  with 
me  to  see  her  father.  It  was  fortunate,  for  I 
am  sure  if  she  had  been  left  with  her  brother 
she  would,  no  doubt,  have  shared  his  fate. 
What  a  providential  escape !  See,  doctor,  I 
brought  this  paper  with  me,  'twas  on  the 
table  near  the  cup ;  it  contains  the  remains 
of  a  white  powder — I'm  sure  'tis  arsenic.  Bes 
sy  was  dead  in  about  ten  minutes  after  I 
got  into  her  room ;  I  tried  to  do  all  I  could 
to  save  her,  but  'twas  no  use.  What  was 
I  then  to  do?  I  did  not  want  to  alarm  the 
neighborhood.  I  fastened  the  door,  got  a 
cab,  and  drove  at  once  to  Doctor  Buster's. 
I  told  the  poor  man  the  sad  story ;  he  went 
almost  distracted,  God  help  him !  he  did ; 
and  we  had,  of  course,  to  keep  it  as  secret 
as  the  grave  from  poor  Alice ;  she  is  very 
delicate,  and  such  horrid  news  might  bring 
her  to  death's  door.  I  got  a  good  woman 
of  my  acquaintance  to  remain  with  her,  and 
the  doctor  came  back  with  me.  He  is  alone 
now  with  his  dead  child,  and  his  heart  is 
ready  to  break.  "Pis  a  dreadful  providence, 
Doctor  Marks  ;  something  must  be  done. 
Doctor  Buster  wants  to  seu  you  at  once ;  he 
knows  you  can  feel  for  his  affliction." 

"This  is,  indeed,  dreadful,"  said  Doctor 
Marks.  "  Are  you  sure  they  are  dead  ?  Is  it 
not  possible  to  do  any  thing  for  them  ?  I  am 
sorry  you  did  not  run  here  for  me  at  once,  be 
fore  you  went  for  Doctor  Buster ;  I  might  have 
been  in  time  even  then." 

"  O  doctor !  I  was  so  distracted,  I'm  sure  I 
scarcely  knew  what  to  do.  They  were  dead — • 
yes,  dead — before  I  left,  and  I  thought  it  best 
to  tell  the  child's  father  at  once." 

"  Well,  well,  'tis  a  sad  business,  Mrs.  Pink 
ley.  I  can  do  but  little  now  to  lessen  the  griei 


158 


EXETER     HALL. 


of  the  bereaved  father ;  but  I  will  see  him,  I 
will  do  what  I  can;  'tis  a  sad,  sad  affair  with 
his  other  troubles." 

"  Very  sad,  doctor ;  afflictions  seem  to  follow 
that  poor  man — they  do  follow  God's  people. 
'Twas  bad  enough  before,  as  you  know,  now 
'tis  dearth — and  such  a  death !  I  dread  to  go 
near  the  place  again." 

"  I  can  uudersi  and  your  feelings.  Were  it 
an  ordinary  visitation  of  Providence,  one 
might  be  in  a  measure  prepared  ;  but  here  we 
have  sudden  deaths !  not  one  alone,  but  a  foul 
murder — a  suicide — a  double  calamity !  Were 
it  even  such  as  could  only  affect  yourselves,  it 
might  be  more  easily  borne  ;  but  it  is  a  matter 
that  can  not,  must  not,  be  kept  secret.  The 
news  of  this  will  startle  the  whole  communi 
ty.  There  will  be  comments  in  the  papers, 
vexatious  rumors  and  speculations,  the  public 
inquest,  and  the  harrowing  notoriety  which 
will  follow." 

Inquest !  The  word  darted  through  her 
brain  like  fire.  She  never  thought  of  that 
horrid  ordeal.  The  room  commenced  to  turn 
round,  its  rotary  motion  increased,  her  sight 
grew  dim,  and  she  would  have  fallen  from  her 
chair  were  it  not  for  the  prompt  assistance  of 
Doctor  Marks.  The  man  outside  the  window 
still  listened ;  he  now  scarcely  moved,  and  he 
heard  every  word. 

"Did  you  say  ' inquest,'  doctor ?"  said  she, 
striving  to  appear  calm  ;  "  not  surely  an  in 
quest  '?  They  died  like  others — not  surely  ah 
inquest,  doctor  ?" 

"  This  outrage  has  upset  you — no  wonder. 
It  would  require  strong  nerves  and  a  wicked 
heart  to  remain  indifferent.  A  deed  of  blood 
has  been  committed,  an  inquest  is  indispensa 
ble.  You  would,  of  course,  be  anxious  to  dis 
cover  the  perpetrator." 

The  respectable  dead  of  the  Home  had  often 
been  delivered  to  mourning  relatives ;  there 
was  nothing  secret  in  their  manner  of  removal, 
there  were  few  inquests  held  over  the  defunct 
of  Doctor  Marks's  establishment ;  they  were 
shrouded  and  coffined  and  publicly  taken 
away,  and  no  one  cared  to  ask  a  question. 
Mrs.  Pinkley  knew  this,  and  now  she  wanted 
her  dead  hurried  out.  What  did  she  care  in 
this  case  for  Christian  burial  ?  There  were 
the  bodies,  dreadful  to  look  at ;  she  would 
readily  take  them  across  the  way,  and  thrust 
them  underground  by  the  side  of  dead  Jews. 
She  wanted  no  inquest,  and  her  charity  was 
sufficiently  expansive  at  the  time  even  to  for 
give  the  murderer. 

"  'Tis  bad  enough  as  it  is — what  good  will 
an  inquest  do?  Think  of  a  father's  feelings; 
but  you  know  best,  Doctor  Marks,  you  know 
best.  We  will  see  Mm  about  it,  let  us  be 
guided  by  what  he  says ;  he  will  advise  for 
the  best,  if  he  can  advise  at  all  in  this 
extremity." 

Mrs.  Pinkley  began  to  pluck  up  her  latent 
courage  ;  she  had  been  taken  unawares — the 
case  was  desperate.  No ;  she  would  never 
flinch  now,  but  was  resolute  and  already  de 
termined  to  resort  to  a  desperate  remedy. 

Doctor  Marks  at  once  prepared  to  go  out. 
Mrs.  Pinkley  left  the  room,  she  had  some 
instructions  to  give  to  the  attendants,  and 
would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  She  went 


into  an  adjoining  apartment,  whispered  to  a 
waiting-woman,  and  then  went  up-stairs  to  her 
own  room.  The  keeper  sat  in  an  arm-chair, 
and  seemed  half-asleep  as  she  passed  through 
the  long  hall ;  but  as  soon  as  he  thought  she 
was  out  of  sight,  he  looked  sharply  around 
and  went  on  tip-toe  to  the  end  ol  the  upper 
stairs  and  stopped  to  listen  ;  when  he  heard 
her  returning — she  remained  but  a  minute  or 
two — he  resumed  his  place  in  the  chair,  and 
affected  to  be  startled  when  she  gently  tapped 
him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Oh  !  is  that  you,  ma'am  ?  I  declare  I  didn't 
hear  you  ;  I — " 

"  Never  mind,  Staples,  I  just  wanted  to  tell 
you  that  I  have  to  go  out  again  ;  the  doctor 
wants  me  to  attend  him  in  a  case  not  far  off; 
I  may  be  away  an  Lour  or  two.  The  pa 
tient  in  No.  19,  next  to  my  room,  is  very 
restless  to  night ;  she  is,  I'm  nfeard,  sinking, 
and  I  want  you  to  remind  Mrs.  Jenkins  to 
attend  to  her  in  about  an  hour'8t  time,  punc 
tual.  'Tis  not  eleven  yet ;  you  stay  in  here 
until  the  doctor  returns — he  may  be  back  be 
fore  me,  he  may  want  me  to  stay  out  longer 
for  all  I  know.  Anyway,  Staples,  don't  for 
get — I'll  be  back  as  soon  as^I  can — that's  a 
good  fellow." 

Just  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  hall, 
plaintive  murmuring  was  heard  in  one  of  the 
rooms  ;  there  were  words  of  woe  and  despon 
dency,  and  then  a  melancholy  voice  droned 
out: 

41  Behold  !  with  awful  pomp, 

The  Judge  prepares  to  come. 
Th'  archangel  sounds  the  dreadful  trump. 
And  wakes  the  general  doom." 

She  was  startled,  unusually  so  ;  her  natural 
firmness  seemed  to  have  been  a  little  shaken 
at  the  moment ;  the  keeper  noticed  her  trepi 
dation,  but  it  quickly  passed  ;  she  felt  slightly 
annoyed  at  her  own  weakness,  and,  as  she  left 
him,  her  thin  lips  were  compressed  and  her 
step  more  determined. 

When  she  went  down,  she  called  Mrs. 
Jenkins,  the  nurse,  into  a  kind  of  dispensing- 
room  ;  there  were  shelves  at  one  end  and 
several  drawers  and  bottles  with  latinized 
labels ;  but  Mrs.  Pinkley  generally  exercised 
a  prudent  caution,  she  knew  nothing  of  Acct. 
Plumb.,  Ant.  Tart.,  Sac.  Jwiip. ,  Hi/d.  Submur., 
Pulv.  Pota*s.,  or  Pil.  Rhei.;  and  was,  there 
fore,  careful  how  she  ventured  to  compound, 
lest  a  fatal  mistake  should  follow  through  her 
ignorance.  Sad  occurrences  of  this  nature 
often  took  place,  she  knew  they  were  quite 
common  ;  but  as  she  was  known  to  be  extreme 
ly  particular,  and  very  cautious  about  touch 
ing  drugs,  she  was  trusted  in  this,  respect 
more  than  any  other  person  in  the  establish 
ment.  There  were  a  few  simples,  however, 
which  she  could  venture  to  handle.  Doctor 
Marks  hnd  these  placed  so  as  to  be  within 
reach  at  any  time  ;  and  as  sedatives  were  often 
required,  she  as  often  prepared  them  without 
reference  to  her  principal.  While  her  atten 
dant  was  engaged  at  a  little  distance,  Mrs. 
Pinkley  drew  from  her  bosom  a  MUiill  pack 
age,  and  took  from  it  one  of  a  number  of 
small  papers  folded  up  like  those  containing 
medical  powders  ;  she  then  emptied  a  few 
grains  of  a  white  substance  into  a  bottle, 


EXETER    HALL. 


159 


then  poured  in  some  water,  added  a  little 
coloring,  shook  all  up,  and,  having  corked  the 
bottle,  handed  it  to  the  woman. 

"  You  see,  Nancy,  I  leave  a  good  deal  to 
you  at  times.  I  told  the  doctor  that  I  have 
great  confidence  in  you,  and  your  allowance 
is  to  be  increased  from  the  beginning  of  next 
month  ;  he  did  so  on  my  recommendation, 
and  I  can  do  m^re  for  you  yet.  I'm  sorry  I 
have  to  go  out  again ;  I  want  you  to  look 
after  No.  19,  give  her  this  in  about  an 
hour's  time  ;  see  that  she  takes  it — now  don't 
forget ;  here,  take  this  too."  And  she  handed 
Mrs.  Jenkins,  the  nurse,  a  half-crown,  and  left 
a  sedative  for  one  patient  which  was  intended 
to  heal  mental  and  bodily  ailments  forever. 

While  Mrs.  Pinkley  was  engaged  outside, 
Doctor  Marks  examined  the  contents  of  the 
paper  which  she  left  on  his  table.  He  touched 
his  tongue  to  the  white  powder,  he  then  ap 
plied  a  chemical  test,  and  was  satisfied  that 
arsenic  had  been  taken  or  administered.  He 
folded  up  the  paper,  laid  it  carefully  in  a 
drawer  and  locked  it  up  ;  but  he  thought  it 
useless  to  prepare  an  antidote,  as  no  doubt 
the  potent  poison  had  already  done  its  work. 

Mrs.  Pinkley  was  now  ready,  and  they 
went  away  together  to  the  house  of  death  ; 
but  before  they  were  hidden  in  the  gloom  of 
the  dark  street,  they  were  watched  and 
followed  by  the  man  who  had  been  looking 
in  at  the  window. 

The  large  front  door  of  the  Home  was 
again  securely  bolted,  the  keeper  heard  their 
departure  ;  he  now  stood  in  the  long  hall  close 
to  the  lamp,  and  was  examining  the  contents 
of  a  small  folded  paper  which  he  had  picked 
up.  The  light  shone  full  upon  his  face,  dis 
playing  sharp,  shrewd  features,  evidently 
those  of  an  active,  intelligent  man.  Having 
satisfied  himself  with  the  scrutiny,  he  put  the 
paper  carefully  in  his  pocket,  and"  went  quick 
ly  to  the  upper  apartments.  Looking  closely 
into  a  little  recess  near  Mrs.  Pinkley 's  private 
room,  he  withdrew  a  key  ;  this  he  applied  to 
the  lock  of  the  adjoining  chamber,  the  bolt 
flew  back,  he  moved  quietly  away,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  patient,  known  in  the  Home 
ai  No.  19,  stood  in  the  passage  ;  and  while 
there,  the  same  melancholy  voice  which  was 
heard  almost  continually  recommenced  its 
doleful  pleadings  for  mercy.  In  the  dim 
light  she  looked  like  a  midnight  spectre.  She 
wore  the  dark  dress  allotted  to  the  female  pa 
tients  of  Doctor  Marks'sestablishment.herhair 
was  partly  loose,  and  her  face  deadly  pale, 
while  her  faltering  step  indicated  great  feeble 
ness.  She  looked  anxiously  after  the  keeper, 
as  he  went  slowly  on  before  her,  and,  by 
placing  one  hand  against  the  wall  she 
managed  to  follow  him  through  the  long 
hall,  then  slowly  down  a  back-stairs,  at  the 
foot  of  which  she  was  obliged  to  take  his 
irm,  and  in  a  few  steps  more  she  was  con 
ducted  into  the  private  reception-room  of  the 
Home. 

it  was  a  neat,  carpeted  apartment,  well- 
lighted  up.  Oh  !  how  the  cheerful  fire,  the 
•/apered  walls,  the  pictures  and  polished 
furniture  reminded  her  of  a  home  now  almost 
remote  in  her  memory.  She  sat  upon  a  sofa, 
a  r'imness  grew  before  her  eyes,  and  she 


could  scarcely  see.  She  had  not  as  yet  per 
ceived  any  person,  and  when  her  hand  was 
gentv  Taised  from  where  it  hung  by  her 
side,  and  when  she  heard  the  mellow,  tremu 
lous,  sympathizing  voice  of  a  friend — a  voice 
she  must  have  heard  bef  re — she  leaned  back 
and  sobbed  pitifully,  like  a  child ;  and  then, 
when  she  found  her  sight  restored,  and  when 
she  looked  pleadingly  upward  anxious  to  dis 
cover  a  compassionate  face,  Martin  Mannors 
stood  befoie  her  trying  to  hide  his  manlj 
tears. 

"  Dear  lady,  how  I  have  pitied  you — how  I 
have  sought  after  you  for  dreary  months,  but 
I  have  found  you  at  last.  What  a  gratifica 
tion  it  is  to  know  that  even  in  this  place,  even 
in  this  prison,  you  have  so  far  escaped  th«j 
designs  of  your  persecutors.  I  am  indebted 
for  a  knowledge  of  your  existence  here,  and 
for  this  interview,  to  a  generous  friend  who 
has  devoted  his  time  and  his  means  iuc  the 
purpose  of  counteracting  the  vile  projects  of 
an  inhuman  man.  You  have  had  a  sad  trial. 
yet  with  your  restoration  "you  may  but  find 
another  grief.  Oh!  that  with  liberty  1  could 
bring  you  happy  tidings.  How  am  I  to  tell 
you  all  ?  Alas  !  I  may  but  darken  your  exis 
tence,  and  cause  you  to  wish  for  the  deep  sleep 
which  knows  no  waking.  But  still  you  must 
live ;  there  is  one  who  will  still  look  up  to  you 
and  call  you  '  mother ' — for  her  sake  you  must 
make  an  effort." 

"  For  her  sake,  did  you  say  ?"  said  the 
startled  woman,  who  now  stood  up  and. 
looked  with  intense  earnestness  into  the  face 
of  Mr.  Mannors,  "  for  her  sake  !  Ah  !  think, 
kind  friend,  there  are  two  pretty  ones.  Yes, 
I  will  live  for  my  children !  For  Jier  sake, 
say  you '!  What  of  my  boy,  my  pretty  child 
— there  are  two,  kind  friend  —  what  of  ;ny 
darling  boy  ?  Oh !  tell  me,  tell  me  all,  or  I 
will  go  mad  at  last."  Sue  seized  Mr.  Manners 
by  the  arm  and  trembled  violently. 

"  Good  (lod!  you  make  no  reply.  Heaven 
pity  me  now !  O  my  child !  my  child !  my 
boy — can  it  be  this  at  last '!" 

"  I  do  pity  you,  poor  lady,  we  all  pity  you  ; 
but  you  can  live  for  one — we  trust  that  one  ig 
still  left." 

She  could  hear  no  more  ;  the  black  shadows 
of  woe  gathered  around  her,  and  she  was 
about  to  sink  in  a  swoon  before  him.  Sho 
was  just  able  to  exclaim,  "  Oh!  that  this  were 
death  !"  and  then  (ell  heavily  at  his  feet.* 

"  Hark  !  she  />rays  for  death — he  is  near,  for 
here  is  his  messenger.  Come,  nurse,  grant  her 
request." 

Mr.  Mannors  was  startled,  the  deep  stillness 
of  the  few  preceding  moments  totally  unpre 
pared  him  for  this  interruption.  He  turned 
around,  the  keeper  stood  looking  in  from  the 
door,  the  nurse  was  by  his  side,  and  she  held 
the  bottle  of  medicine  which  Mrs.  Pinkley 
left  with  her  to  be  administered.  The  woman 
seemed  rather  timid,  she  hesitated,  but  the 
keeper  was  urgent. 

"  Come,  nurse,  you  may  be  too  late — I  was 
told  to  remind  you.  If  a  spark  of  life  remains, 
you  have  that  which  will  do  death  good  ser 
vice.  See,  we  brought  her  down  here  for  you ; 

*  See  Note  J. 


160 


EXETER    HALL. 


'twill  save  trouble — she  will  be  nearer  her 
grave.  Psha !  woman,  are  you  afear'd  V  what 
will  Mrs.  Pinkley  say  ?" 

The  woman  was  bewildered  ;  what  did  it 
all  mean  V  She  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
for  an  explanation ;  she  did  not  know  that 
there  was  a  stranger  in  the  house  at  that 
time  of  night,  and  could  not  account  for  the 
scene  before  her.  Just  then  the  back  en 
trance  of  the  house  was  opened,  and  another 
stranger  entered — he  was  a  stout,  plain-look 
ing  man.  She  began  to  grow  afraid,  and  lest 
the  bottle  should  fall  from  her  hand,  the 
keeper  took  it  from  her.  The  person  who  had 
last  come  in  was  Robert,  the  trusty  servant 
of  Mr.  Manners,  who  had  been  acting  as  a 
detective,  and  she  felt  relieved  when  she  was 
called  to  assist  in  placing  the  lady  upon  the 
sofa.  Restoratives  were  immediately  applied, 
and  while  the  poor  lady  still  seemed  in  a  kind 
of  stupor,  she  was  carefully  attended.  The 
nurse,  upon  being  questioned,  acknowledged 
that  Mrs.  Pinkley  had  given  her  the  bottle, 
that  she  had  mixed  the  medicine,  and  had 
cautioned  her  particularly  to  get  the  patient 
in  No.  19  to  take  it  as  a  draught  that  night. 
She  declared  that  she  did  not  know  herself 
what  the  bottle  contained,  only  that  she  was 
told  it  was  a  "  draught." 

"  Twould  be  a  final  draught,"  said  the 
keeper ;  "  but  I  rather  guess  we'll  keep  it  for 
the  benefit  of  some  one  else.  Now,  nurse,  I'm 
in  command  here  at  present ;  I  want  you  to 
take  good  care  of  that  lady,  we  are  just  going 
to  the  doc-or's  study  for  a  few  minutes  ;  I  will 
send  in  one  of  the  other  women  to  stay  with 
you  ;  we  will  be  back  soon."  He  then  left  the 
r->om,  Mr.  Mannors  and  Robert  followed,  but 
he  was  cautious  to  lock  the  doors,  and  take  the 
keys,  so  that  none  could  find  egress  from  the 
establishment. 

Ever  since  his  wife  had  been  placed  in  the 
Home,  it  was  the  custom  of  Mr.  Mannors  to 
visit  the  asylum  about  once  every  week  ;  his 
daughter  and  Hannah  often  accompanied  him — 
sometimes  they  went  there  by  themselves  dur 
ing  the  intervening  time.  He  had  this  day  paid 
his  usual  visit ;  Robert  was  with  him,  and  he  re 
mained  in  conversation  with  the  doctor  longer 
than  lie  generally  did  on  other  occasions.  He 
was  anxious  to  see  the  keeper — he  did  not  let 
the  doctor  know  this — but  that  attendant  had 
received  permission  to  go  out  that  evening, 
and  had  not  yet  returned.  It  was  nearly  dark 
before  Mr.  Mannors  left  the  place,  and  they 
had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  they 
met  Samuel  Styles,  the  very  person  for  whom 
they  had  been  waiting  at  the  Home.  He  had 
been  running  fast,  and  was  nearly  out  of 
breath.  He  looked  excited,  and  during  his 
quick  respiration  he  hurriedly  communicated 
something  which  seemed  to  affect  his  hearers 
*nd  to  decide  Mr.  Mannors  to  return  with  him 
at  once  to  the  Home. 

"  She  is  away  now,  she  has  only  just  got 
there.  I  know  she'll  be  back  soon  for  the 
doctor— she  must  tell  him  ;  she  won't  tell  the 
detectives — but  I've  already  done  that  for  her, 
I've  just  been  at  the  station — they've  scented 
blood  already.  I'll  just  run  ahead,  you  fol 
low  ;  I  can  let  you  in  privately,  and  we'll  see 
tyha*.  turns  up." 


It  must  have  occurred  to  the  reader  that 
Samuel  Styles  was  the  new  keeper  at  the 
Home.  From  the  moment  that  he  became  de 
termined  to  counteract  and  expose  the  plans  of 
Doctor  Buster,  he  was,  to  use  his  o\vn  words, 
"  continually  upon  his  track,"  and  he  spared 
neither  time  nor  pains  to  obtain  all  necessary 
information,  or  at  least  such  as  could  be  got 
by  the  most  artful  expedients.  By  means  of 
the  memorandum  which  Doctor  Buster  had 
carelessly  lost,  together  with  the  advertisement 
taken  from  the  Time*,  a  sufficient  cue  was  ob 
tained  to  lead  to  the  important  discovery  thai 
the  moderator's  wife  was  immured  in  the  pri 
vate  asylum  of  Dr.  Marks.  By  his  good 
address,  he  managed  to  secure  the  situation  of 
keeper  under  the  name  of  Staples,  and  subse 
quently,  by  great  tact,  secured  the  high  opin 
ion  and  good-will  of  an  important  personage, 
Mrs.  Pinkley,  who  was  the  principal  female 
attendant  at  the  Home.  In  a  few  days,  with 
out  causing  the  least  suspicion,  he  learned  thi* 
ins  and  outs  of  the  whole  place.  The  female 
patients  were  kept  in  the  upper  rooms ;  he 
soon  discovered  the  occupant  of  No.  19,  and 
managed  to  establish  a  communication  \vith 
her  by  which  she  was  encouraged  to  be  hope 
ful,  and  assured  her  that  she  had  one  watchful 
friend,  who  merely  waited  for  an  opportu 
nity  to  secure  her  freedom  and  punish  her 
oppressor.  Dr.  Marks  he  found  to  be  an 
easy-going  man,  considerate  enough  ;  but  Mrs. 
Pinkley  was  callous  and  indifferent  to  the 
sufferings  of  others,  particularly  to  those  of  her 
own  sex.  The  patient  in  No.  19  was  kept 
within  hearing  of  the  most  violent  lunatics, 
as  if  to  hurry  her  to  madness,  and  the  dreary 
wailings  of  Mrs.  Mannors  could  be  heard  by 
her  almost  continually  ;  in  fact,  he  already  de 
tected  that  the  treatment  she  had  received 
was  specially  intended  to  shorten  her  exist 
ence. 

Having  made  the  discovery  in  the  asylum, 
his  next  object  was  to  ascertain  whether  Doc 
tor  Buster's  children  were  in  the  actual  charge 
of  Mrs.  Pinkley.  According  to  his  engage 
ment,  however,  his  time  was  rather  limited  ; 
his  hours  of  duty  were  from  nine  o'clock  A.M. 
until  four  P.M.,  d  uring  the  day ,  and  from  six  P.M. 
until  midnight.  He  was  required  to  confine 
himself  strictly  to  the  Home  during  the  night, 
but  the  hours  between  four  and  six  in  the 
afternoon  might  be  spent  either  in  or  out  of 
the  place,  as  he  liked  ;  special  permission  was 
necessary  to  enable  him  to  leave  the  Home  at 
any  other  time.  Mrs.  Pinkley 's  residence  was 
but  a  short  distance  from  the  asylum  ;  through 
the  influence  of  Doctor  Buster,  she  had 
the  privilege  of  lodging  in  her  own  house 
after  a  certain  hour  at  night,  unless  some  ur 
gent  case  required  her  attention.  Her  nightly 
absence,  however,  enabled  the  new  keeper  to 
make  his  most  important  discoveries,  and 
often  after  midnight,  when  off  duty,  instead 
of  seeking  repose,  he  would  steal  out,  contrary 
to  rules,  and  if  he  saw  no  light,  or  heard  no 
sound  about  her  place,  he  would  listen,  to  try 
and  find  whether  she  slept,  and  then  he  would 
speculate  upon  the  nature  of  her  dreams  ero 
he  returned  to  indulge  in  his  own. 

Anxious  to  gain  admittance  to  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley's  house,  he  once  or  twice  succeeded  in  be- 


EXETER  HALL. 


161 


coming  the  hearer  of  a  message  to  her  from 
Doctor  Marks ;  but  though  she  did  not  mis 
trust,  she  was  very  guarded,  and  baffled  every 
effort  he  made  to  gain  admittance — she  was 
sun;  to  meet  him  at  the  door,  and  keep  him 
outside  until  she  sent  her  answer.  He  saw 
that  it  would  not  do  to  excite  her  suspicion  ; 
this  might  destroy  his  plans.  At  last,  it  struck 
him  that  by  watching  from  the  Jewish  ceme 
tery  opposite  her  house,  he  might  be  able  to 
discover  who  were  tke  actual  members  of 
Mrs.  Pinkley's  household,  and  perhaps  ascer 
tain  at  what  particular  time  Doctor  Buster 
paid  his  visits. 

Day  after  day,  then,  the  keeper  visited  the 
cemetery,  and  faithfully  spent  his  two  leisure 
hours  watching  Mrs.  Piukley's  house.  The 
door  was  always  kept  shut,  the  lower  windows 
were  closely  screened,  and  the  upper  ones  had 
half-curtains.  Once  when  she  was  out,  the 
upper  curtains  were  put  aside,  and  he  saw 
three  persons — Bessy  and  the  two  children. 
The  next  day  he  came  disguised  and  with  a 
basket  of  toys  ;  he  did  not  go  into  the  ceme 
tery,  but  loitered  at  a  corner  of  the  street  until 
he  saw  Mrs.  Pinkley  leave  the  house ;  he  hur 
ried  to  the  door  and  rapped,  and  the  girl, 
thinking  that  her  mistress  had  perhaps  for 
gotten  something  and  had  returned,  opened 
it ;  the  peddler  pushed  his  way  in,  but,  as  the 
children  were  up-stairs,  and  silent  as  usual,  he 
merely  asked  a  few  questions,  looked  sharply 
around  the  place,  and  then  left,  lest  by  some 
chance  he  might  be  discovered. 

Lately,  however,  he  had  not  seen  Doctor 
Bnster.  What  could  have  detained  him  ? 
Were  the  rumors  of  his  suspected  visits 
after  all  but  an  envious  scandal  ?  Night  and 
day,  for  more  than  a  week,  he  had  been  closely 
watched,  but  so  far  his  shadow  had  never 
darkened  the  doorway.  The  keeper  was  non- 
pi  u^sed.  Was  he  watched  himself?  and  had 
some  churchyard  imp  given  the  doctor  a 
timely  warning  ?  His  fears,  however,  were  in 
this  respect  ill-founded.  The  devoted  moder 
ator  was  away  at  the  time,  ostensibly  upon  a 
visitation  to  certain  churches  or  congregations 
as  a  peace-maker.  Sometimes  even  where 
prayers  and  sermons  are  most  plenty  the 
enemy  of  souls  will  intrude,  and  children  of 
the  same  church  will  wrangle,  and  lambs  of 
the  same  fold  will  lose  their  spirituality  and 
become  like  ravening  wolves,  ready  to  devour 
eacli  other,  and  pious  pastors  will  desert  a 
congregation  for  one  more  deserving  of  their 
sympathies  ;  who  can  say  whether  the  fresh 
''call  "  is  so  promptly  answered  because  a  sti 
pend  is  to  be  increased,  or  because  others  are 
in  greater  spiritual  destitution?  Anyway, 
the  call  is  generally  answered,  old  ties  are 
rudely  sundered,  pastors  often  leave  their  old 
flocks  to  take  care  of  themselves,  and  the 
moderator  had  often  much  to  do  to  suppress 
schism,  to  keep  the  sheep  from  wandering 
away  into  other  folds,  and  to  reconcile  de 
serted  sinners  to  their  temporary  abandon 
ment. 

At  last  he  camel  The  keeper  was  again 
in  the  cemetery,  it  was  a  gloomy  evening  and 
drawing  toward  dusk.  He  saw  Doctor  Buster 
enter  the  house  ;  after  a  short  time  he  heard 
i  scream,  he  rushed  toward  the  place.  Mrs. 


!  Piukley,  who  also  heard  the  scream,  had  just 
got  in  before  him,  and  in  her  alarm  neglected 
to  fasten  the  door.  He  followed,  he  heard 
her  reproaches,  and  witnessed  the  scene  of 
blood  which  sent  Irim  shuddering  away. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  the  afflicted 
lady  in  the  parlor  of  the  Home  still  lay  almost 
unconscious  upon  the  sofa.  The  three  men 
yet  remained  in  Doctor  Marks's  study.  Samuel 
Styles  had  given  Mr.  Mannors  a  full  account 
of  how  he  had  acted  since  his  engagement  as 
keeper,  and  how  his  last  fortunate  discovery 
was  the  attempt  to  administer  poison,  which 
was  to  have  been  made  that  night.  There 
was  the  bottle,  its  contents  could  be  easily 
tested,  and  there  was  the  additional  paper  of 
white  powder  which  he  had  picked  up  in  the 
hall,  and  which  had  been  dropped  by  Mrs. 
Pinkley  at  the  time  she  was  startled  "by  the 
premonitory  words  of  Mrs.  Mannors,  for  it 
was  she  who  spoke. 

The  relation  of  these  things,  together  with 
the  events  of  the  day,  had  a  saddening  effect 
upon  all,  and  now  they  sit  demurely  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night,  listening  to  the  bleak, 
wintry  winds  which  rush  and  moan  around 
the  building,  and  make  the  long  poplars  sigh 
mournfully  in  the  desolate  cemetery.  They  are 
aroused !  Footsteps  and  voices  are  heard  at 
the  door,  the  night  bell  resounds  through  the 
silent  building.  They  enter — not  Doctor 
Marks  alone — Mrs.  Pinkley  with  drooped  head 
is  safely  escorted  by  two  detectives!  She 
enters  the  study,  and  stares  wildly  at  the  men 
who  are  there  to  meet  her.  They  look  at  her 
now  in  silence.  Ha  !  she  knows  that  face — 
'tis  the  infidel !  She  turns  to  the  keeper,  she 
frowns,  she  scowls,  her  hand  is  clinched,  and 
she  bites  her  lip.  Oh !  could  she  but  force 
him  now  to  swallow  the  contents  of  that  bot 
tle.  But  he  holds  it  out  at  arm's  length,  and 
exhibits  the  paper  of  poison.  "  See,"  he  ex 
claims,  "  she  is  saved  !" 

"  Saved  !"  She  stood  erect  before  him  as  if 
suddenly  petrified.  A  deadly  pallor  over 
spread  her  face.  "Saved!"  She  was  grow 
ing  very  faint.  Was  she  lost  herself  ?  She 
revived  again,  and  her  hopeless,  wandering 
gaze  rested  upon  Mr.  Mannors.  "  Yes,  'tis 
but  an  infidel  plot — I  see  it  all  now — a  vile 
plot,  Doctor  Marks,  an  infamous  lie.  But  I 
am  weary,  and  'tis  very  late.  Let  me  rest 
here  to-night,  let  me  think,  and  I  will  prove  it 
all  to-morrow." 

The  gray  dawn  of  the  wintry  morning 
stole  in  through  the  curtained  window  of  a 
small  upper  room  in  the  Home,  and,  as  the 
light  slowly  increased  and  struggled  for  ad 
mittance,  the  dim  outlines  of  a  chair,  a  table, 
and  a  bedstead  could  just  be  discovered 
Every  thing  was  still :  and.  as  thf  light  grew 
stronger,  an  emptv  cup  could  be  seen  on  the 
table  and  the  muffled  form  of  a  wearied  sleepei 
on  the  bed.  But  now  the  stillness  is  broken, 
and  a  voice  at  a  short  distance  wails  out,  "  Lost, 
lost,  lost."  It  is  quiet  again,  and  not  the 
faintest  sound  of  breathing  can  be  heard. 
What  a  lethargy !  Even  the  drowsy  watcher 
outside  the  room  door  is  listening  to  the  silence. 
Still  the  torpid  form  lies  stretched  upon  the 
bed — it  never  moves — its  last  breath  has  been 
drawn.  Ah  1  how  had  death  entered  ?  The 


162 


EXETER    HALL. 


fatal  draught  had  at  last  been  given !  and- 
Mrs.  Pinkley  had  made  her  escape. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THERE  was  to  be  a  public  inquest  at  the 
Home  !  one  unlike  any  that  had  ever  taken 
place  there  before  A  posse  of  ignorant  ju 
rors  would  soon  be  assembled  ;  they  might 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  extend  their  judi 
cial  privi'eges,  and  to  go  tramping  through 
the  whole  place,  causing  confusion  ;  and  after 
that,  their  blundering  verdict  might  bring  fi 
nancial  ruin  upon  the  entire  establishment. 
It  was  very  provoking  to  one  of  Doctor  Marks's 
staid  and  precise  respectability.  He  was 
very  much  agitated,  he  felt  himselt  singular 
ly  compromised,  and  that  his  position  would 
be  considered  rather  questionable.  He  was 
already  conscience-stricken.  Danger  seemed  to 
be  looming  up  around  him.  Was  he  not  lia 
ble  to  be  accused  as  being  an  accomplice  in  a 
shameful  system  of  persecution  toward  one 
who  had  been  placed  in  his  power  ?  Would 
he  uot  be  looked  upon  as  one  so  thoroughly 
base,  as  to  have  acted  in  cooperation  with  a 
heartless,  infamous  woman,  in  order  to  carry 
out  an  inhuman  design,  or  for  the  sake  of  the 
paltry  sum  which  was  to  be  the  reward  of 
systematic  cruelty  ?  Friends  of  the  patients, 
and  other  persons  who  had  already  called  and 
obtained  admission  that  morning  were,  he 
thought,  rather  shy  toward  him  ;  and,  as  he 
went  about  from  place  to  place,  he  was  fol 
lowed  by  curious  eyes,  and  in  imagination 
public  curiosity  seemed  to  be  already  drifting 
into  public  suspicion.  In  this  trying  time,  he 
had  scarcely  a  single  friend  in  whom  he  could 
confide,  and  he  was  obliged  to  assume  a  calm 
demeanor  while  he  was  agitated  by  wild  and 
conflicting  emotions.  Oh !  how  he  could  have 
cursed  his  own  pliability  and  that  clerical 
impostor  whose  specious  piety  had  lured  him 
into  this  vortex  of  trouble.  He  was  very  anx 
ious  ;  as  yet  there  was  no  accusation  made 
against  him,  but  he  felt  every  moment  as  if 
the  hand  of  justice  was  about  to  be  laid  on 
his  shoulder.  What  if  some  vile  endeavor 
should  be  made  to  blast  his  prospects  ?  What 
if  his  patients  should  see  that  stiffened  body 
lying  in  the  hall,  and  should  get  startled 
back  to  sanity  at  the  sight  of  its  distorted  fea 
tures?  There  was  trouble  on  every  side,  and 
his  hopes,  and  his  honor,  and  his  respectabili 
ty  seemed  to  have  almost  withered  away. 
The  terrible  news  of  the  murder  and  poison 
ing  of  the  previous  evening  had  been  heard 
all  over  the  city,  and  early  in  the  day  a  crow-d 
of  idle  persons  had  assembled  outside  the 
Home,  in  expectation  of  being  able  to  get 
a  chance  sight  of  the  noted  woman  who  was 
supposed  to  be  the  accomplice  of  Doctor 
Buster,  if  not,  indeed,  the  very  principal  in 
the  horrid  crime  which  had  been  committed. 
Already  several  palliating  circumstances  and 
many  excuses  were  framed  in  behalf  of  the 
reverend  moderator  ;  and  a  number  of  sturdy 
Christians  were  quite  prepared  to  assert  that 
Doctor  Buster  could  not  possibly  be  guilty  of 


a  crime,  but  that  it  was  a  de^p-laid  plot,  an 
infidel  design,  against  a  well-known  servant 
of  the  Lord.  The  blind  confidence  of  the  pi 
ous  would  not  be  easily  shaken,  and  soon  as 
the  religious  papers  made  their  appearance 
they  would  defend  him  in  thunder  tones  and 
hurl  defiance  at  his  accusers.  Large  bail  was 
promptly  tendered,  and  he  was  still  at  liberty. 

Any  way,  there  was  to  be  a  j  udicial  exa 
mination.  Mrs.  Pinkley,  and  Doctor  Buster, 
and  Samuel  Styles,  and  others  would  be 
brought  face  to  face  at  the  police  court.  It 
would  be  a  feast  for  the  press,  and  reporters 
made  early  preparations  so  as  to  be  able  to 
send  full  accounts  to  their  respective  papers. 
Doctor  Marks  had  pledged  himself  for  the  ap 
pearance  of  Mrs.  Pinkley  before  the  magistrates 
or  at  an  inquest,  and  as  a  matter  of  greater 
security,  two  detectives  were  to  have  her  un 
der  surveillance  ;  she  should  get  no  chance  to 
slip  away.  The  investigation  was  to  take  place 
in  the  forenoon,  and  other  officers  of  justice  had 
already  arrived  at  the  Home  for  the  purpose  of 
procuring  certain  witnesses  and  to  conduct 
the  accused  to  the  legal  tribunal. 

They  had  been  waiting  there  for  some  time, 
the  hours  passed  quickly  ;  punctuality  was  ne 
cessary,  and  there  could  not  be  much  further 
delay.  It  was,  however,  very  late  when  the 
accused  woman  had  been  permitted  to  retire  ; 
no  doubt  she  had  great  need  of  rest — that  is,  if 
repose  were  possible  to  one  in  her  position. 
The  detectives  watched  in  turn  outside  her 
room  during  the  night.  It  was  now  nine 
in  the  morning,  and  she  had  not  yet  made  her 
appearance,  neither  could  the  officer  who  kept 
watch  at  the  time  hear  the  least  sound  of  pre 
paration.  Excitement,  shame,  and  mortifica 
tion  must  have  kept  her  awake  during  the 
night,  and  heavy  sleep  must  have  at  last  over 
powered  her.  But  justice  could  not  wait — it 
is  a  petulant  thing.  Minos  or  Radamanthua 
would  brook  no  delay.  Ate  stood  claiming  re 
tribution,  and  should  she  not  have  it  1 

Is  not  the  justice  of  Christian  civilization 
more  rigid  in  its  demands  t  It  is  ever  eager 
for  its  prey,  it  is  righteous  ;  vengeance  is  its 
handmaid,  and  reformation  is  but  a  step 
daughter  which  it  elbows  aside  to  be  nurtured 
by  visionary  philantrhopists.  It  must  feel  no 
pity — tears  can  not  affect  its  purity  ;  they  may 
drop  unheeded  forever  upon  its  marble  bosom  , 
the  quality  of  mercy  might  be  degrading  to 
its  dignity.  It  must  have  no  human  sympa 
thies.  It  frowns  upon  the  wretched  culprit  in 
the  dungeon  ;  and  when  its  decree  lias  gone 
forth,  when  even  human  life  is  the  sacrifice  to 
be  laid  upon  its  altar,  it  will  not  waver.  It 
can  heed  no  natural  emotion,  but  it  will  staltt 
away  from  the  scaffold  with  haughty  tread, 
severe  brow,  and  fingers  dripping  in  gore- — 
for, alas  1  is  it  not  more  noble  than  humanity? 
Ah!  who  is  to  arraign  justice  for  its  cruelties? 
Who  is  to  blot  out  its  teicts  and  statutes  of 
blood?  Who  is  to  stop  its  legalized  atroci 
ties  forever  1 

As  yet,  there  was  no  stir  in  Mrs.  Pinkley's 
room ;  the  detectives  rapped — there  was  no 
reply.  A  woman  was  sent  for  to  demand 
admittance  and  to  hurry  her  out ;  and 
though  the  woman  rapped  and  called  lustily 
and  long  enough,  still  no  answer  came  ;  the 


EXETER    HALL. 


1C3 


Bleoper  was  not  aroused,  and,  after  many  other  I 
unsuccessful  attempts  had  been  made,  the  of-  ' 
ficers  grew  impatient  and  suspicious,  the  door 
was  burst  open,  and  when  the  nurse  entered 
and  uncovered  the  sleeper's  face  she  started 
back  in  affright — behold,  Mrs.  Pinkley  was 
dead! 

The  discovery  was  quite  shocking ;  the  ex 
citement  throughout  the  place  was  very  great. 
Those  who  had  assembled  outside  the  house 
were  much  disappointed  ;  they  became  clam 
orous  and  unruly,  and  tried  to  gain  admission  ; 
they  were  anxious  to  see  the  Jezebel  living 
or  dead,  and  when  they  could  not  succeed  in 
effecting  an  entrance,  they  muttered  curses 
against  her  who  had  eluded  justice. 

Doctor  Marks  was  agitated,  the  keeper 
seemed  confounded,  and  maids,  nurses,  and 
attendants  appeared  frightened  or  bewildered. 
There  were  ominous  whispers  among  visitors  ; 
there  were  strange  preparations  ;  the  frown 
ing  corpse  was  stretched  out  in  the  long  hall — 
it  did  not  receive  tender  handling — there  was 
no  solemnity.  The  curious  gazed  with  unfeel 
ing  eye,  the  timid  stood  aloof,  and,  while  it 
lay  uncared  for  in  the  gloom,  messengers  were 
dispatched  for  the  coroner. 

In  consequence  of  this  unexpected  act  in 
the  drama,  the  magistrates  who  had  as 
sembled  in  order  to  hold  a  preliminary  exam 
ination  had  to  adjourn.  Three  inquests  were 
to  be  held  that  day,  and  Doctor  Buster  might 
perhaps  be  able  to  have  another  day  or  two  to 
prepare  his  defense,  and  to  bless  and  pray  for 
his  sympathizing  friends.  They  came  in  a 
little  crowd ;  he  was  again  in  the  pleasant 
parlor  of  his  reverend  friend,  Mr.  Campbell, 
and,  though  he  was  but  slightly  flushed, 
and  to  all  appearance  perfectly  resigned 
to  meet  what  certain  pillars  of  the  church 
called  his  fresh  ordeal  of  persecution,  those 
only  who  looked  at  him  sharply  could  detect 
the  traces  of  great  anxiety  which  were  visible 
on  his  countenance.  But  he  managed, 
however,  to  receive  the  numerous  visits  of 
clerical  and  legal  friends,  and  to  smile  benig- 
nantly  upon  dowagers,  spinsters,  and  other 
sighing  sisters  who  came  to  proffer  their  stock 
of  pious  sympathy. 

Yet  all  this  could  not  last,  he  was  again 
alone.  He  said  he  needed  a  little  rest,  and  so 
he  did  ;  but  when  alone,  then  came  his  brood 
ing  thoughts,  the  most  cheerless  and  harass 
ing  of  all  intruders.  What  dire  despondency 
they  brought !  Could  it  be  that  she  with 
whom  he  had  so  cheerfully  conversed  the 
previous  day,  before  whom  he  had  laid  his 
future  plans,  was  already  a  suicide,  lying 
perhaps  at  that  very  moment  under  the  cold 
gaze  of  an  investigating  jury  ?  Oh!  that  un 
fortunate  blow  ;  and  as  he  looked  down  at  his 
right  hand,  he  could  have  wished  it  withered 
from  his  ann.  Still  he  felt  but  little  re:nor*e 
for  the  death  of  his  child,  but  he  felt  a  deep 
dread  of  hopeless  loneliness.  His  mainstay 
had  been  cut  down.  Within  the  short  period 
of  on.-  wintry  day,  his  future  had  been  blasted, 
and  his  shrewd,  unprincipled,  courageous  con 
fident  had  been  balked,  baffled,  overreached, 
and  driven  to  destruction.  And  when  he 
then,  almost  met  the  calm,  defiant  look  of 
Martin  Manners,  and  almost  heard  the  re 
proaches  of  his  outraged  wife,  and  when  in 

' 


the  terror  of  imagination  he  beheld  the  pros- 
trate  form  of  his  paramour,  and  saw  the  fixed 
stare  of  her  sightless  eyes,  and  saw  her 
clenched  hands,  compressed  lips,  a^nd  distorted 
features,  the  very  shadow  of  death  seemed  to 
encompass  him — he  shrunk  and  crouched  in 
horror  and  dismay,  and  wished  for  sudden 
annihilation. 

An  hour  of  misery  had  passed — how  he 
dreaded  the  future!  He  could  find  no  rest. 
Were  he  only  secure  of  being  left  alone,  and 
within  reach  of  some  strong  opiate,  he 
might  be  tempted  to  follow  her  who  had 
proved  so  resolute  in  self-destruction.  Even 
then  he  admired  her  infamous  courage — cou 
rage  which  his  overbearing  disposition  could 
not,  however,  equal.  She,  in  possession  of  her 
faculties,  took  the  desperate  plunge  when  she 
saw  no  chance  of  escape.  He  might  be  aroused 
to  do  so  w^re  his  senses  sufficiently  blunted, 
and  were  he  satisfied  that  his  infamy  was 
about  to  be  detected  and  exposed.  Still  hia 
love  of  life  was  strong ;  as  yet  he  stood  fair  in 
the  eyes  of  many — he  was  one  of  God's  minis 
ters —  and  many  scoffed  at  the  accusation. 
They  deznanded  proof — where  was  the  evi 
dence  ?  It  was  but  an  infamous  plot — they 
dreaded  no  investigation. 

But  the  doctor  did  dread  such  a  proceeding ; 
it  could  not  be  now  avoided.  He  was  still  in 
deep  thought ;  there  was  a  faint  ray  of  hope, 
and  he  clung  to  this  like  a  drowning  mariner 
to  a  plank.  "  What  is  the  evidence  ?  who  is 
to  prove  against  me?  The  humpback  alone 
saw  the  blow,  but  her  account  is  settled. 
Poor  Fan  did  not  see  me,  but  she  knew  all — 
she  too  is  beyond  their  reach.  Then  who  is 
to  prove?  Law  is  law,  they  must  convict 
legally.  A  man's  life  should  not  hang  upon 
mere  circumstantial  evidence.  Who  is  to  tes 
tify  ?"  He  pondered  for  a  few  moments  ;  his 
emotions  of  hope  and  fear  quickly  came  and 
went,  bringing  assurance  or  despondency,  and 
were  as  visible  on  his  face  as  freaks  of  light 
ning  across  a  thundercloud  in  the  darkness  of 
midnight.  But  suddenly  the  mental  illusion 
disappeared  ;  his  hopes  again  seemed  pros 
trated.  Was  there  not  another  present  when 
the  blow  was  struck  ?  Had  not  Alice  seen 
all  ?  Would  it  not  be  dreadful  were  his  own 
child  obliged  to  speak  in  evidence  against 
him  ?  He  was  struggling  again  with  despair 
and  he  almost  writhed  in  mental  torture 
Yet  once  more  l  here  came  a  nickering  of  hope. 
He  started — where  was  Alice?  In  the  midst 
of  his  own  troubles,  he  had  never  given  her  a 
thought !  Where  was  she  ?  he  felt  but  little 
doubt  of  her  safety,  but  could  she  not  be  put 
beyond  the  reach  of  his  ferocious  inquisitors  ? 
Could  she  not  be  tutored  to  lie — to  deny  all 
knowledge  of  the  fatal  blow  ?  Could  she  not 
be  sent  away,  or  confined,  or  any  thing — he 
did  ii!>t  care  what,  so  as  she  could  be  kept  out 
of  sight  ?  Ay,  in  this  desperate  case,  and  in 
his  present  mood,  he  would  not  object  to  have 
her  strangled,  were  he  only  able  to  find  an 
accomplice;  but  the  trusty  hand  that  might 
have  lent  him  ready  aid  was  now  powerlflM 
forever. 

The  accused  man  was  in  an  extremity  ;  time 
was  pressing,  he  would  be  obliged  to  appear 
that  afternoon  or  early  next  day  at  the  in 
quest  which  was  to  be  held  over  the  body  of 


164 


EXETER    HALL. 


his  own  son  and  also  over  that  of  the  poor 
humpbacked  girl.  The  sudden  death  of  Mrs. 
Pinkley  had  caused  delay.  Fortunately,  he 
was  not  required  to  appear  at  the  asylum; 
but  no  plea  of  indisposition,  nor  any  other 
plea  whatever  could  save  him  from  a  horrid 
notoriety  ;  he  would  be  forced  to  attend,  he 
would  have  to  view  the  remains  of  his  dead 
child,  and  to  meet  his  accusers  face  to  face. 
Still  he  could  do  all  this,  he  could  view  his 
bloody  work  without  a  shudder  ;  yes,  he  could 
go  and  boldly  deff  all,  could  he  but  get  Alice 
out  of  the  way  ;  that  girl  should  be  disposed 
of,  and  it  should  be  done  at  once. 

She  must  be  found,  no  matter  when,  or 
where,  or  how.  Caution  required,  however, 
that  he  should  not  appear  too  anxious  con 
cerning  this  matter  before  others.  Then  whom 
could  he  trust  ?  Where  could  he  get  one  to  [ 
be  faithful  and  to  do  his  bidding  ?  He  would 
pay  a  princely  price  for  the  work  ;  he  had 
ample  funds,  for  on  the  previous  day,  antici 
pating  the  happy  flight  he  expected  to  take 
with  Mrs.  Pinkley,  he  drew  a  thousand 
pounds  upon  the  indorsement  of  the  Rev.  An 
drew  Campbell.  With  a  full  purse  and  a 
willing  agent,  he  ought  to  be  able  to  do  much  ; 
where  could  he  find  the  right  person  ?  Stay  ! 
lie  feels  relieved,  he  has  been  trying  to  think 
who  among  the  faithful  was  worthy  of  his 
confidence  at  this  critical  time — he  feels  again 
assured.  There  is  another  gleam  of  hope,  he 
has  hit  upon  the  right  one — he  has  found  an 
ally — he  would  send  at  once  for  Bross. 

The  inquest  at  the  Home  was  over ;  it  was  a 
tedious  post-mortem  case,  but,  after  all,  the 
j  urors  had  not  much  to  do.  The  evidence  was 
direct,  and  went  to  prove  that  the  late  princi 
pal  female  attendant  of  the  Home  had  retired 
at  a  certain  hour  on  the  previous  night  ap 
parently  in  good  health,  it  might  be  a  little 
weak  or  fatigued,  and  that  in  the  morning  she 
had  been  found  dead  in  her  bed.  It  was  proved 
that  the  cup  found  upon  her  table  conta-ned 
arsenical  sediment,  that  she  had  taken  such 
poison,  and  that  several  small  papers  of  the 
dame  substance  had  been  found  in  a  private 
drawer  in  her  room.  Every  thing  went  to 
prove  an  evil  intention  on  her  part.  Her  de 
sign  upon  the  life  of  a  female  patient  in  the 
asylum  was  made  manifest.  It  was  there 
fore  believed  that  she  had  taken  poison  to  es 
cape  the  legal  penalty  for  murder  ;  the  verdict 
was  in  accordance,  and  in  the  eyes  of  many 
the  case  looked  brighter  for  Doctor  Buster. 

There  were  loiterers  around  another  door ! 
How  gloomy  the  place  seemed !  It  might 
have  Iveu  caused  by  the  cold  shadows  of  the 
tall,  leafless  trees  in  the  cemetery  across  the 
way.  It  was  chilly,  and  the  wintry  wind  howl 
ed  mournfully  through  the  branches.  'Look 
in  1  There  they  still  la >  — the  boy  in  his  gore, 
and  the  poor  girl  with  a  placid  smile  on  her 
worn  features,  but  stamped  there  in  the  marble 
rigidity  of  death.  Her  untold,  her  unpitied 
sufferings  had  ceased,  and  her  little  term  of 
patient  endurance  had  ended.  There  were 
sighs  of  real  pity ;  many  of  tlie  strong  men 
who  stood  silently  around  could  have  shed 
honest  tears ;  and  there  were  women  present 
— -pious  ones,  too — who  could  have  prayed,  but 
to  what  purpose?  They  might  pray,  it 


would  be  but  a  formal  muttering.  Prayei 
without  faith,  like  a  body  without  a  soul, 
would  be  dead.  In  these  latter  days,  when 
organizations  for  prayer  are  so  numerous,  pe 
titions  may  constantly  ascend,  but  the  most  or 
thodox  never  hope  for  a  notable  miracle.  The 
dead  may  be  raised  at  the  general  judgment, 
but  not  sooner.  The  inspired  word  might  be 
true,  and  its  promises  very  cheerful  and  con 
soling,  but,  alas !  these  promises  may  be  now 
read  by  the  most  confident  Christian,  and  there 
is  still  a  sad  lack  of  faith.  Of  what  avail  are 
those  which  ^y,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  that 
whosoever  shall  say  unto  this  mountain,  Be 
thou  removed  and  be  thou  cast  into  the  setv, 
and  shall  not  doubt  in  his  heart,  but  shall  be 
lieve  that  those  things  which  he  saith  shall 
come  to  pass,  he  shall  have  whatsoever  he 
saith.  Therefore  I  say  unto  you,  What  things 
soever  ye  desire  when  ye  pray,  believe  that  ye 
receive  them,  and  ye  shall  have  them." 
Mark  11  :  23,  24. 

"  These  signs  shall  follow  them  that  be 
lieve  :  In  my  name  shall  they  cast  out  devils  ; 
they  shall  speak  with  new  tongues ;  they 
shall  take  up  serpents ;  and  if  they  drink  any 
deadly  thing,  it  shall  not  hurt  them ;  they 
shall  lay  hands  on  the  sick,  and  they  shall 
recover."  Mark  16  :  17,  18. 

"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you.  He  that 
believeth  on  me,  the  works  that  I  do  shall  he 
do  also  :  and  greater  works  than  these  shall  he 
do,  because  I  go  unto  my  Father — and  what 
soever  ye  shall  ask  in  mv  name,  that  I  will  do." 
John  14:13,  13. 

"  If  two  of  you  shall  agree  on  earth  as  touch 
ing  any  thing  that  they  shall  ask,  it  shall  be 
done  for  them  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heavln."  Matt.  18  :  19. 

It  is  asserted  that  these  and  other  scriptural 
promises  are  applicable  for  all  time.  Where 
are  the  true  believers  ?  Where  are  they,  e\x-n 
among  the  earthly  sanctified,  who  can  truly 
accept  these  promises,  whose  faith  in  them 
never  falters  V  The  lip  may  utter  its  prayer, 
yet  the  heart  has  no  hope.  The  inspired 
promises  may  be  read,  but  the  church  must 
have  degenerated.  Our  Israel  has  not  the 
faith  of  the  ancient  saints.  At  the  present 
day,  faith  will  neither  walk  upon  the  water, 
remove  the  mountain,  nor  raise  the  dead. 
Lazarus  might  have  been  called  from  the 
tomb ;  Jairus  miglit  have  had  his  little 
daughter  restored  ;  the  widow  of  Nain  miglit 
have  been  weeping  near  the  city  gate,  and 
following  in  the  mournful  procession  which 
bore  her  only  son  to  the  grave ;  her  sobs 
might  have  suddenly  ceased,  and  she  might 
have  been  permitted  to  clasp  his  living  form 
once  more  to  her  bosom.  He  who  is  said  to 
have  done  these  works  also  said  to  his  dis 
ciples,  that  those  who  had  faith  in  him  should 
perform  greater.  Has  that  word  lost  its 
power,  or  is  faith  in  it  merely  theoretical  ? 
Who  now  can  raise  the  dead  V — There  they 
lie !  let  the  miracle  be  performed.  See  that 
girl  !  bring  back  the  smile  again  to  her  wan 
face,  and  let  the  pulsations  of  her  loving 
heart  return.  Reanimate  that  little  form,  and 
give  back  the  boy  to  his  weeping  mother. 
Alas  1  they  move  not!  Of  what  worth  .are 
these  assurances?  to  what  intent?  Neither 


EXETER    HALL. 


105 


promise,  nor  prayer,  nor  faith  hath  power  to 
do  this  thing!  Even  those  who  still  cling  to 
belief  hope  not  for  a  miracle,  neither  for  the 
restoration  of  such  as  these.  Their  faith  may 
be  "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evi 
dence  of  things  not  seen  ;"  yet  though  they  ac 
knowledge  no  existing  doubt,  they  must  feel 
content  to  wait  lor  the  actual  evidence  until 
the  "  last  great  day." 

All  were  in  waiting.  Doctor  Buster  came 
with  rather  reluctant  steps.  The  minister  of 
St.  Andrew's  and  members  of  the  church — 
wealthy  members,  too — followed,  prepared  to 
renew  their  bonds  for  the  moderator  were  it 
necessary.  Legal  friends  came  also,  who 
could  cross-question,  perplex,  and  almost  de 
molish  the  evidence  of  any  ordinary  witness. 
Every  arrangement  had  been  made  to  give  aid 
and  c  >mfort  to  one  so  wantonly  harassed  and 
accused.  The  doctor  entered ;  the  place  was 
familiar,  bat  she  was  not  there  to  greet  him. 
There  were  strange  faces — the  coroner  and  his 
assistants,  police  officers  and  jurors — who  look 
ed  suspiciously  at  him,  as  if  eager  to  give  the 
verdict  which  he  feared.  There  were  others, 
perhaps  accusers  or  witnesses  ;  and  now,  while 
he  tried  to  assume  the  air  of  an  injured  man 
and  to  appear  greatly  affected,  he  looked 
searchingly  around  for  one  girlish  countenance. 
He  could  not  see  it,  neither  was  that  dreaded 
infidel  present.  Hope  came  again  and  grew 
stronger.  He  could  look  with  comparative  in 
difference  upon  that  other  little  face,  bruised 
and  blacks  ned,  that  was  there  before  him — yes, 
he  could  look,  for  Alice  was  not  there  whose 
living  visage  he  feared  still  more  to  behold. 
A  great  point  was  gained.  Bross  must  have 
received  his  message,  and  acted  promptly. 
His  daughter  Alice  was  not  there,  thanks,  no 
doubt,  to  Bross.  He  began  to  breathe  more 
freely,  and  to  feel  himself  saved. 

The  jurors  were  sworn,  they  went  to  view 
me  bodies,  and  the  legal  gentlemen  who  ap 
peared  on  behalf  of  the  crown  stated  that 
evidence  would  be  produced  to  show  that 
the  deceased  girl  had  been  in  the  employment 
of  the  late  Mrs.  Pinkley,  that  she  was  not  of 
a  vicious  disposition,  as  had  been  improperly 
reported,  and  that  it  was  not  at  all  probable 
that  she  had  committed  self-destruction.  Evi 
dence  would  also  prove  that  she  was  very 
much  attaclied  to  the  children  of  Doctor  Bus 
ter,  and  that  she  had  never  committed  the 
least  act  of  violence  toward  one  or  the  other  ; 
but  that,  on  the  contrary,  when  the  boy  had 
been  struck  down  by  another,  she  was  heard 
to  bewail  him  as  if  dead  ;  and  that  there  was 
strong  reason  to  believe  that  her  own  death 
had  been  effected  in  a  very  short  time  after 
ward  by  persons  who  were  then  present,  and 
anxious  to  get  her  out  of  the  way. 

"  Persons  who  were  then  present !"  The 
moderator  grew  nervous — who  could  prove 
that  he  was  there  '!  lie  whispered  to  his  legal 
adviser,  and  that  gentleman  begged  permis 
sion  to  interrupt  his  learned  friend  by  assert 
ing  his  doubts  as  to  his  ability  to  procure 
such  proof.  Then  the  doctor  looked  eagerly 
around  again,  yet  Alice  could  not  be  seen. 

The  interruption  met  with  no  reply  ;  the 
counsel  for  the  crown  merely  told  the  jurors 


that  they  would  not  be  kept  waiting  for  the 
evidence;  he  would  first  call  on  Samuel 
Styles.  This  witness  was  entirely  unknown 
to  Doctor  Buster — he  applied  his  eye-glass. 
Samuel  Styles!  Who  is  he  t  He  was  sworn. 
In  order  to  explain  his  position  more  fully,  he 
gave  the  jury  his  reasons  for  entering  the 
Home  as  keeper,  and  how  he  had  detected  the 
plans  of  the  moderator  and  Mrs  Pinkley  ; 
how  he  had  discovered  the  doctor's  imprisoned 
wife,  and  how  he  had  watched  for  the  children, 
and,  at  last,  how  he  had  entered  .the  house, 
when  he  heard  the  scream,  on  the  very  eve 
ning  of  the  murder.  He  could  not  say  who  had 
actually  struck  the  blow,  but,  said  he,  point 
ing  to  the  accused  minister,  "  That  man  was 
present,  and  I  heard  Mrs.  Pinkley  accuse  him 
of  the  act,  and  reproach  him  for  so  doing." 
The  doctor  turned  ghastly  pale,  and  trembled 
from  head  to  foot.  "  It  is  infamous,"  muttered 
the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell,  "  an  infamous 
plot !" 

"  I  beg  to  draw  your  attention,  gentlemen, 
to  the  fact,"  again  interrupted  the  doctor's  le 
gal  friend,  "  that  the  witness  was  rather  on 
intimate  terms  with  the  deceased  girl — what 
proper  business  could  he  have  had  there  at 
the  time  ?  Might  it  not  be  asserted,  that  he  is 
now  only  acting  like  a  criminal,  who,  to  shield 
himself,  would  accuse  others  ?  He  is  a  stran 
ger — one  to  be  suspected — where  is  his  proof 
that  my  accused  friend  was  in  the  house  ? 
surely  we  are  not  to  take  the  ipse  diiit  of  a 
man  in  the  very  equivocal  position  of  this 
precious  witness." 

"  You  shall  have  evidence  presently,"  re 
plied  Samuel  Styles ;  "  I  may  be  a  kind  of 
strange  in  these  parts,  but  I  guess  I  know  a 
thing  or  two.  I  can  prove  that  I  engaged  in 
the  asylum  as  keeper  by  the  advice  of  one,  per 
haps  known  to  many  present — one,  anyway, 
whom  to  know  is  to  trust.  I  fifl  lowed  Mrs.  Pink- 
ley  into  her  house  that  evening  unperceived  ;  I 
saw  who  were  there — guess  I  saw  too  much. 
I  didn't  wait  a  minute,  I  limbered  up  and  put, 
and  in  less  than  an  hour  I  told  my  story 
to  the  authorities ;  that  poor  girl  lying  there, 
was  made  away  with  before  they  got  here, 
she  was  kneeling  by  the  side  of  the  boy 
when  I  left.  Anyhow,  I'm  about  right  in 
what  I  say,  and  that  child  coming  in  will 
prove  the  rest." 

All  eyes  were  now  turned  to  the  door.  Mr. 
Thomas  Bioss  entered  obsequiously — he  had 
already  transferred  his  allegiance.  The  mod 
erator  as  a  priest,  and  the  moderator  as  a 
prisoner  were  to  him  two  distinct  individu 
als ;  there  was  no  personal  identity — lie  knew 
neither.  Though  pious,  he  was  a  worldly- 
wise  man,  a  time-server,  and  knew  where  the 
sunshine  was,  and  there  he  would  bask.  Tho 
doctor  was  in  the  shade — there  let  him  stay  ; 
Bross  would  now  follow  the  fortunes  of  hid 
great  opponent. 

The  moderator's  heart  failed  him.  Was  nht 
coming  V  lie  dare  not  look  up — a  sight  of  that 
living  child  would  be  more  terrible  than  tht 
sight  of  the  dead  one.  He  heard  her  weeping 
and  the  prayer  of  his  heart  then  was,  "  Oh ! 
that  with  her  tears  her  eyes  might  melt 
away  and  her  tongue  refuse  its  office.  Oh ' 


166 


EXETER   HALL. 


that  the  sight  of  that  mangled  body  might 
put  her  reason  to  flight,  or  stop  the  throbbing 
of  her  heart  forever." 

She  came  weeping,  poor  thing!  Oh!  how 
Badly.  She  was  led  in  tenderly  by  Mr.  Man 
nors,  and  at  the  moment,  the  intense  gaze  of 
pity  from  nearly  all  present  seemed  to  bring 
a  hush  followed  by  a  deep  silence.  Men  held 
their  breath,  and  tried  to  keep  back  their  tears 
— thermite  eloquence  of  nature.  They  stood 
aside  to  let  her  approach ;  her  slight  form  was 
bent  with  grief,  and  she  drew  near,  crying  and 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  ap 
proached  the  table,  and  then,  for  the  first  time, 
looked  up  ;  what  a  sight  met  her  eyes !  She 
seemed  suddenly  overwhelmed;  she  was  sink 
ing,  but  ere  she  fell  she  was  seized  and  then 
taken  fainting  from  the  crowded  room.  Had 
her  father's  prayer  or  curse  already  had  its 
accomplishment  ? 

They  waited  for  some  time,  but  a  medical 
gentleman  who  was  in  attendance  gave  it  as 
his  opinion  that,  as  the  child  had  received  a 
dreadful  shock,  it  might  prove  fatal  were  she 
again  brought  in  that  day.  If  her  evidence 
was  necessary,  it  must  be  taken  in  s  >me  other 
place  and  at  some  other  time.  The  coroner 
was  of  the  same  opinion  ;  and,  as  it  was  get 
ting  late,  he  suggested  that  other  evidence 
might  be  taken,  and  that  they  would  then  ad 
journ  until  the  next  day. 

A  witness  Was  called,  and  Mr.  Mannors  an 
swered  to  his  name.  "  I  beg  respectfully  to 
object  to  that  gentleman's  evidence."  said 
Doctor  Buster's  legal  friend,  addressing  the 
coroner.  "I  am  sure  that  you  will  concur  in 
the  opinion  that  his  evidence  is  not  admissi 
ble." 

These  remarks  caused  some  surprise.     * 

"  Not  admissible !     Why  BO  V" 

"  Because  he  is  not  a  believer  in  our  holy 
religion.  He  treats  the  Holy  Scriptures  with 
contempt.  He  is  an  infidel — a  blasphemer." 

The  counsel  for  the  crown  interfered  ;  he 
could  not  imagine  that  such  a  disqualification 
existed.  Were  he  to  judge  by  appearances, 
there  was  not  a  person  present  before  the  court 
on  whom  he  could  more  readily  depend  for  a 
truthful  evidence. 

"  The  learned  counsel  must,  however,  ad 
mit,"  retorted  the  other,  "  that  appearances 
are  sometimes  very  deceptive.  Truth  from 
prejudiced  lips  is  too  often  equal  to  falsehood. 
However,  if  the  gentleman  is  truthful,  a  plain 
answer  to  a  plain  question  will  settle  the  busi 
ness." 

As  it  was,  the  coroner  felt  rather  ashamed  of 
the  objection.  "  Mr.  Mannors,  you  have  heard 
what  has  been  just  stated  ;  will  you  be  good 
enough  to  say  whether  you  believe  the  Holy 
Bible  to  be  the  revealed  word  of  God,  binding 
on  all  men  ?  Do  you  believe  in  a  future  state 
of  rewards  and  punishments '(" 

"  Will  my  answer  be  satisfactory  ?  I  am 
not  sworn  :  will  my  mere  word  in  reference  to 
this  be  believed  1" 

"  Certainly." 

"It  seems,  then,  that  the  evidem-j  which  I 
may  give  against  myself  will  be  accepted, 
while  that  which  I  could  give  against  a 
criminal  will  be  refused.  Let  it  be  so — it  is 
the  result  of  Christian  liberality.  I  do  not 


believe  that  the  Christian  Bible  is  the  r^voal 
ed  word  of  any  God,  or  of  any  being  superioi 
to  man.  I  can  not  say  whether  there  is  or  will 
be  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments. 
I  can  neither  affirm  nor  deny  ;  but  I  never 
yet  l»ave  had  any  proof  of  a  post-mortem  exis 
tence.  Still,  iny  fondest  hopes  are  in  that 
direction." 

"  Then,"  said  the  coroner  in  a  hesitating 
manner,  "  I  regret  that  we  can  not  accept  any 
statement  from  you  as  legal  evidence." 

Well  might  the  coroner  and  those  around 
him  have  blushed  at  such  a  declaration,  and 
well  may  intolerance  point  with  pride  to  its 
recorded  triumphs.  There  is  a  statute  includ 
ed  among  British  laws — a  usage  in  British 
practice  —  whereby  honest,  thoughtful,  in 
credulous  men  can  be  wantonly  insulted  in  a 
public  court  and  unjustly  ostracized  for  their 
adherence  to  honest  opinion.  The  exercise  of 
this  antiquated  bigotry  in  the  nineteenth 
century  should  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to 
the  cheek  of  every  liberal  man. 

"As  the  court  has  very  properly  refused  that 
person's  evidence,  before  we  adjourn  I  trust  I 
may  be  permitted,  on  behnlf  of  my  accused 
friend,  to  show  that  a  deep  design  has  for  some 
time  existed  against  him ;  that  the  very 
individual  whose  word  or  whose  oath  would 
not  be  trusted  by  honest  men,  or  received  in 
an  ordinary  court  of  justice,  has  not  only 
destroyed  the  domestic  happiness  of  my  client, 
but  has  hounded  and  persecuted  him  down  to 
the  present  moment.  Not  only  have  the  infidel 
sentiments  of  that  man  caused  him  to  be  a 
blight  to  the  happiness  of  his  own  wife,  so  much 
so  as  to  cause  her  to  be  immured  in  an 
asylum,  but  here  is  evidence  to  show  that  he 
has  been  the  principal  agent  in  leading  a  once 
worthy  woman  down  to  infamy."  Having 
said  this,  he  held  out  the  letter  or  note  which  • 
had  been  hastily  written  by  Mr.  Mannors  to 
the  moderator's  wife  at  the  time  she  was  try 
ing  to  escape  from  persecution. 

"  HAMPSTEAD,  June,  1863. 
"  MY  DEAR  MADAM  :  I  shall  meet  you 
again  next  Thursday  at  the  place  appointed. 
I  have  already  made  arrangements  for  your 
temporary  stay  at  the  Red  Lion.  In  that  place, 
you  can  be  perfectly  private.  I  think  you 
should  leave  your  husband  at  once,  and  be 
free  for  a  time  or  forever  from  his  vicious  con 
trol.  Yours  sincerely, 

"  MARTIN  MANNORS.'' 

"  Gentlemen,  comment  is  almost  useless, 
but  I  consider  this  letter  to  be  damning  proof 
of  the  infamy  of  that  man." 

"As  I  have  not  been  permitted  to  give  evi 
dence,"  said  Mr.  Mannors  in  a  mild  tone,  "  1 
trust  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  explain  why 
that  letter  was  written,  and  to  prove  by  others 
that  the  persecuted  lady  first  sought  me.  She 
is  at  present  beneath  ray  roof  and  under  my 
protection,  and  were  it  not  that  she  is  greatly 
enfeebled,  and  that  it  would  be  worse  than 
cruelty  to  bring  her  here,  she  could  give  such 
a  rebuke  to  her  detractors  and  to  mine  as  would 
silence  them  forever." 

"  So  she  could,  sir,  so  she  could;"  interrupted 
Mr.  Bross  ;  "  I  can  prove  that  when — " 


EXETER    HALL. 


167 


The  counsel  for  the  crown  rather  abruptly 
stopped  the  law-clerk's  flow  ol  eloquence,  by 
statiag  what,  had  been  just  read  or  said  was 
irrelevant ;  it  was  no  matter  for  the  considera 
tion  of  the  jury.  Direct  evidence  was  requir 
ed,  and  he  had  been  but  a  moment  or  two 
since  assured  that  if  the  little  girl,  Alice,  was 
kept  quiet  and  free  from  any  further  excite 
ment  for  a  few  hours,  she  would  be  able  to 
give  evidence  to-morrow  ;  that  evidence  was  all 
that  was  now  required  before  the  matter  was 
left  to  the  jury. 

"  I  guess  here's  a  piece  of  evidence  you  won't 
refuse,"  said  Samuel  Styles.  "  I  rather  think 
'twill  speak  conclusively.  I  shall  leave  it 
with  you  before  we  part ;  it  can  be  cross- 
questioned  at  leisure.  He  handed  the  Queen's 
Counsel  a  handsome  cane,  which  had  been 
broken  in  halves  ;  it  was  of  ebony,  and  its 
massive  gold  handle  was  covered  with  blood, 
which  had  dried  and  crisped  in  its  rich  chas 
ing.  In  searching  Mrs.  Pinkley's  room  that 
morning,  he  had  found  it  under  the  mattress 
of  her  bed. 

"  Now,"  continued  he,  pointing  to  Doctor 
Buster's  legal  friend,  "  that  gentleman  a  kind 
of  hinted  that  I  was  a  stranger  in  these  pails, 
and  might  be  acting  like  a  criminal,  by  trying 
to  throw  the  load  on  others.  Just  ask  him  if 
he  ever  saw  that  fancy  article  before,  and  if 
he  knows  who  is  the  owner.  I  rather  hope 
that  his  position  just  now  won't  be  quite  as 
equivocal  as  he  hinted  that  mine  was  a  spell 
since.  If  he  can't  exactly  turn  it  through  his 
mind,  perhaps  that  other  gentleman  " — and  he 
pointed  to  the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell — "might 
refresh  his  memory,  and  help  him  to  make  a 
clean  guess  :  not  that  I  exactly  want  the 
information  myself,  'tan't  of  no  great  conse 
quence  to  me — guess  I'm  sufficiently  posted — 
but  these  twelve  men  here  might  be  just  a 
leetle  curious  and  might  like  to  hear  their 
sentiments." 

It  was  luckv  at  the  moment  for  Doctor  Buster 
that  the  broken  cane  was  the  object  of  such 
general  interest.  He  sat  crouched  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  and  the  policeman,  who  stood 
close  by,  could  see  him  tremble,  and  could 
mark  the  knotted  veins  swell  out  upon  his 
forehead.  Were  it  possible  for  that  dead  boy 
to  arise  from  his  clotted  bier  and  give  evi 
dence  against  his  father,  it  would  not  be  more 
conclusive  to  many  present  than  the  sight  of 
that  bloo:l-marke.l  witness.  The  owner  of  it 
was  well  known  ;  neither  the  doctor's  advocate, 
nor  the  Rev.  Andrew  Campbell  made  any  re 
ply — a  dawning  of  the  terrible  truth  had  even 
now  come  for  them. 

The  shadows  of  the  wintry  evening  had 
already  begun  to  make  their  appearance  ;  an 
adjournment  was  asked  for.  The  doctor,  it 
was  pleaded,  felt  much  harassed  and  fatigued  ; 
he  would  be  able  to  give  a  satisfactory  expla 
nation  to-morrow.  The  coroner  was  very 
considerate — he  did  not  wish  to  be  too  rigor 
ous  with  a  distinguished  clergyman  ;  but  it 
was  with  difficulty  that  the  counsel  for  the  \ 
crown  was  prevailed  upon  to  consent  to  re-  j 
new  the  doctor's  bail — he  did  not  deem  it 
just  to  draw  nice  distinctions  in  favor  of 
clerical  offenders.  However,  promises  and 
importunitiea  prevailed,  and  the  moderator 


was  again  saved  from  commitment.  In  leav 
ing  the  place,  the  accused  man  was  without 
hope,  but  he  made  a  desperate  effort  to  appear 
calm  ;  he  smiled,  and  leaned  upon  the  arm  of 
his  reverend  friend,  and  he  walked  away  as 
complacently  as  a  sanctified  criminal  on  his 
way  to  execution. 

For  obvious  reasons,  Alice  was  consigned 
to  the  care  of  the  medical  attendant  until  the 
next  day,  and  a  posse  of  constables  were  to 
be  left  in  charge  of  the  place.  Samuel  Styles 
joined  Mr.  Mannors,  and  they  once  more  turn 
ed  their  faces  toward  Hampstead. 

The   dreary   December  night  had   passed 
away,  and  the  c  >ld,  gloomy  dawn  was  slowly 
making  its  appearance.     The   moon  was  in 
its  last  quarter ;  it  now  shone  through  a  small 
opening  in  the  heavy  clouds,  and  a  few  stars 
in  the  interminable  distance  stole  glimpses  at 
the  bleak  earth.    One  of  the  homeless  urchins 
of  the  city,  who  had  taken  refuge  during  the 
night  in  an  outhouse  or  shed  adjoining  the 
stable  belonging  to  the  pastor  of  St.  Andrew's, 
peeped  out  from  under  his  bundle  of  rags.   He 
was  trembling,  there   was    snow   upon  the 
ground,  and  the  pangs  of  hunger  had  already 
robbed  him  of  any  chance  for  the  continuation 
of  his  wretched  rest.    Would  he  live  another 
day,  he  must  be  active ;  he  must  go  out  again 
into  the  wilderness  of  streets,  and  pick  up  and 
swallow  such  garbage  as  could  be  found.   Per 
haps  it  might  be  a  lucky  day,  he  might  find  a 
shilling,  or  get  a  chance  to  steal  one — it  made 
no  difference  which.     Pinched  and  straitened 
as  he  was,  theft  to  him  could  not  be  crime, 
but  suicide  was  ;  in   his  great  extremity,  he 
had  never  yet  thought  of  that.     But  was  it 
not  right  to  steal  ?  else  how  could  he  live  ?  He 
wanted  bread  ;  it  was  in  his  last  thoughts  at 
night  when  he  lay  down  in  hunger — bread 
was  in  his  dreams,  and  bread,  or  rather  want 
of  it,  came  again  with  the  dawn.     He  must 
live ;  forlorn  as  he  was,  there   was  hope — 
there  was  yet  a  charm  in  his  bleak,  unblessed 
existence  which  he  would  not  exchange  for 
death.     The  cold  moonlight  was  streaming 
down,  and  a  colder  blast  was  rushing  about, 
and  now,  as  this  poor  starveling  indulged  in 
felon  thoughts  toward  large  brown  loaves,  he 
noticed    a    long   shadow  moving  backward 
and  forward  at  the  end  of  the  shed  furthest 
from  where  he  lay.     He  looked  listlessly  at  it 
for  some  time,  but  its  motion  in  the  moonlight 
was  so   unusual   that    he  watched  it   more 
closely.     He  had  often  taken  refuge  in  that 
place  before,  but  no  such  vision  had  ever  until 
now  disturbed  his  waking  moments  or  ban 
ished  his  thoughts  of  bread.     Wrapt  in  his 
rags,  he  hobbled  out,  then  went  toward  the 
stable-door ;  the  end  of  a  beam  projected  a 
couple  of  feet  from  the  wall ;  he  looked  up  in 
the  gloom  somewhat  frightened  ;  a  rope  had 
been  attached  to  the  beam,  the  body  of  a  large 
man  hung  at  the  end  of  the  rope,  the  wind 
swung  it  to  and  fro,  and  the  long  spectral 
shadow   which   followed  the  body   was  tha 
shadow  of  the  late  Doctor  Theophilus  Buster. 


168 


EXETER    HALL. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

IT  had  been  blowing  a  keen  sou-wester  all 
day,  and  the  Atlantic  waves,  as  they  entered 
the  passage  leading  to  Cork  harbor,  rushed 
wildly  toward  Fort  Carlisle,  and  then,  as  if 
repulsed,  seemed  to  be  diminished,  and  to 
slacken  their  speed  as  they  bounded  by  Spike 
Island  on  their  flashing  and  sparkling  course 
to  the  most  spacious  and  beautiful  haven  in 
Ireland.  Some  miles  out  at  sea,  a  large  steam 
er  from  Liverpool  was  heading  for  this  port ; 
it  had  struggled  nobly  all  day  against  adverse 
winds  and  waves,  and /now,  as  day  drew  to  a 
close,  there  was  a  lull,  and  an  April  sunset 
flung  a  glory  along  the  coast,  and  its  waning 
red  rays  could  be  seen  wandering  away  over 
the  distant  hills,  and  then,  as  if  resting  on 
the  very  verge  of  earth  and  heaven,  gradually 
mellowed  into  the  most  delicate  blush  ere 
sinking  into  repose. 

Several  passengers  had  assembled  on  the 
deck  of  the  vessel ;  some  who  were  in  a  hurry 
to  land  had  already  been  packing  trunks  and 
carpet-bags ;  a  few  mercantile  men  were  dis 
cussing  the  chances  of  an  increase  or  falling 
off  in  business ;  politicians  talked  of  the  re 
form  bill,  of  Fenians,  and  of  the  gloomy  pros 
pects  of  the  confederates  in  America ;  while 
others,  who  had  been  a  longer  or  shorter 
period  away  from  their  native  land,  gazed 
thoughtfully  upon  the  distant  headlands,  or 
traced  the  dim  outline  of  some  mountain 
whose  summit  was  lost  in  the  clouds,  but  by 
whose  base,  perhaps,  stood  the  sheltered  val 
ley  cottage  that  was — Home. 

Apart  from  the  other  passengers,  two  per 
sons  stood  leaning  against  the  ship's  side 
toward  the  forward  part  of  the  vessel.  There 
was  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  and  they 
were  gazing  on  the  panorama  of  beautiful 
scenery  which  moved  slowly  by.  One  was  a 
stout,  low-sized  man  of  middle  age,  he  had  a 
reddish,  good-humored  face,  and  there  was 
something  clerical  in  his  appearance ;  the 
other  was  younger,  taller,  rather  slight  or 
slim,  and  of  no  particular  complexion. 

"  And  that's  the  Green  Isle,  the  Island  of 
Saints?  Well,  now,  I  fancy  'twould  be  much 
better  for  all  parties  if  it  had  never  gained 
that  name.  Saints  !  my  present  idea  of  that  par 
ticular  class  is  something  like  what  I  used  to 
have  of  bears  or  wild  cats.  They're  mild  and 
glossy  at  times,  well  enough  to  look  at ;  but 
'tis  j  ust  as  well  to  keep  hands  off,  and  not  cross 
their  track  or  interfere  with  their  doings  ;  if 
you're  risky,  and  keep  within  reach,  they're 
not  mighty  particular  about  hurtin'  your 
feelings.  Well,  now.  that's  a  kind  of  natural 
looking  right  across  the  way — green  and 
brown  fields,  and  them  old  blue  hills  away  off ; 
you  han't  much  timber,  rather  too  much  of  a 
clearance,  but  how  green!  green  and  garden- 
like,  that's  a  fact.  Yes,  there's  no  mistake 
about  it,  I  rather  fancy  that  that  is  the  Emerald 
Isle." 

There  was  another  pause  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  his  companion,  while  looking  at  the 
approaching  shore,  said  reflectively, "  Yes,  sir, 
that's  ould  Ireland,"  and  he  seemed  to  lay 
particular  stress  upon  the  adjective. 

"Well,  old  or  new,  'tis  about  as  good  a 


place  for  raising  saints  as  any  I  know  of.  It 
takes  a  certain  kind  of  folks  to  make  good 
saints — such  as  are  ready  to  believe  all  they 
know,  and  a  good  deal  of  what  they  don't 
know.  Anyhow,  they  ought  to  prosper  over 
there ;  but  some  say  they've  been  as  bad  for 
the  land  as  Canada  thistles." 

"Just  as  bad.  We've  had  saints  of  all  de 
grees  from  Palladius  or  Patrick,  its  reputed 
patron,  down  to  Cullen.  If  religion  has  been 
a  blessing  to  others,  it  has  failed  altogether 
with  us  ;  we've  had  it  in  almost  every  shape 
and  form — Pagan,  and  Popish,  and  Protestant ; 
it  has  been  fed  with  blood,  and  pampered  with 
gold.  The  crown,  and  the  cross,  and  the  Bible 
have  each  in  turn  exercised  an  influence  only 
adverse  to  humanity.  Then  we've  had  a 
dominant  church  and  its  holy  apostle — the 
sword;  but  all  to  no  purpose.  It  seems  tome 
that  the  Irish  will  never  be  converted  by 
Christianity,  it  wants  son  ething  more  pure 
and  undefiled  than  that  to  soften  their  hearts 
and  end  their  strife.  In  this  respect,  I  think 
they  are  but  a  type  of  our  common  humanity. 
Yes,  sir,  the  Gospel  has  been  a  woe  to  that 
island  ;  its  ancient  Druidism  could  not  have 
created  more  superstition,  caused  more  conten 
tion,  or  produced  greater  mental  degeneracy  ; 
and  sure  I  myself  have  helped  them  down ; 
well,  nabochlish,  I'll  undo  what  I  can  before  I 
die." 

"  I  guess  we've  all  a  little  to  undo  in  that 
way  ;  still  'twas  no  fault  of  ours,  we  were 
hitched  to  the  thing  in  early  years  ;  that's  the 
Gospel  plan  you  know  —  catch  them  while 
they're  green — they  can't  begin  with  think 
ing,  reasoning  men ;  secure  the  young  ones 
and  the  women  folks,  and  the  rest  are  more 
likely  to  follow.  But  now  that  we're  free,  let 
us  try  and  help  those  in  bonds.  'Tis  a  tough 
task,  I  admit ;  but  the  ball  is  rolling,  and  time 
will  do  the  rest,  that's  certain. — See  them 
green  hill  slopes  !  every  thing  so  fresh  look 
ing,  an't  that  fine?  If  a  man  had  any  poetry 
in  his  nature,  he  ought  to  be  able  to  find  it 
somewhere  about  here.  Well,  how  I  should 
like  to  have  a  few  thousand  of  them  Irish 
acres,  and  then,  if  I  could  only  get  the  right 
kind  of  set'lers,  every  one  of  them  as  igno 
rant  of  all  religion  as  a  rhinoceros,  and  have 
common-sense  laws,  good  schools,  and  freedom 
from  the  extortion  of  priests  and  parsons,  I 
rather  think  we  should  make  the  thing  work, 
and  make  out  to  live,  and  prove  to  the  world 
what  could  be  done  on  Irish  soil." 

"  So  you  might,  but,  alas !  for  poor  Ireland  ; 
its  soil  has  been  enriched  mainly  by  blood.  For 
centuries  the  battle  of  creeds  has  continued,  un 
til  almost  every  foot  of  its  surface  has  been 
trodden  over  by  armies,  and  factions,  and  reli 
gious  freebooters  of  all  kinds.  First  the  pagan 
was  routed,  then  came  Palladius,  or  Patrick,  or 
some  other  pious  pretender,  upsetting  one  idol 
and  erecting  another,  then  Christianity  was 
called  civilization,  and  the  converted  poor  were 
plundered  and  made  poorer  by  continued  im 
posts  for  the  erection  of  cathedrals,  and  ab 
beys,  and  monasteries,  and  for  the  support  of 
a  horde  of  idle  priests  ;  then  came  the  Ref'or- 
mation,  with  its  alien  clergy  and  rapacious 
gospelers,  eager  for  prey  and  for  proselytes, 
and  these  were  soon  followed  by  Cromwell 


EXETER    HALL. 


169 


and  confiscation.  The  old  form  of  Christiani 
ty  was  called  idolatry,  the  next  was  avarice  ; 
both,  in  their  results,  were  mercenary  and  in 
human.  The  exactions  of  the  one  were  bad 
enough,  but  the  extortions  of  the  other  have 
been  the  main  cause  of  rebellion  and  murder, 
legal  and  illegal,  for  the  last  three  hundred 
years.  Rome  in  its  palmy  days  quietly  fleeced 
the  Irish  flock,  but  the  voracious  English 
Btate  church  has  rushed  down  upon  them  like 
a  wolf,  and,  behold  its  effects!  religious  des 
potism,  religious  strife,  and  a  pauper  popu 
lation." 

"Just  so,  the  boasted  effects  of  a  religion 
of  peace  and  good-will ;  but  what  of  the  dis 
senters — you  an't  forgetting  them?" 

"  No,  they  are  our  chief  beggars — a  hungry 
race.  They  are  foxes  that  gnaw  the  very 
bones ;  they  are  the  Pharisees  of  our  day,  pray 
ing  for  humility,  yet  eager  for  power.  But 
no  wonder  we  have  continued  discord  and  re 
bellion  in  Ireland — religion  has  been  its 
greatest  oppressor.  The  state  church,  with 
less  than  one  seventh  of  the  population,  de 
mands  support  from  the  remainder  who  reject 
its  teachings.  That  institution,  established  by 
violence  and  fraud,  still  exacts  for  the  main 
tenance  of  its  archbishops,  bishops,  priests, 
and  ecclesiastical  commissioners  about  £700,- 
000  annually ;  besides,  it  has  rents  and  rev 
enues  from  100,000  acres  of  land,  and  other 
enormous  emoluments,  sufficient  if  expended 
in  humane  and  charitable  purposes  to  give 
vast  relief  to  the  deserving  poor.  What  but 
rebellion  can  be  expected  from  such  wholesale 
plunder  ?  Irish  Catholics,  who  are  heavily 
taxed  to  pay  their  own  priesthood,  naturally 
feel  indignant  at  such  base  oppression,  and 
justly  offer  it  a  continued  r.-sistance.  Between 
Papists  and  Protestants,  orange  and  green, 
the  spirit  of  the  nation  has  been  almost 
crushed  out,  and  kings,  popes,  prelates,  and 
priests  may  well  exult ;  they  have  brought 
misery  on  a  land  that  might  have  been  a  re 
gion  of  happiness." 

"  This  is,  you  know,  what  they  call  propa 
gating  the  Gospel ;  but,  according  to  your  idea 
and  mine  too,  they  have  had  too  much  of  a 
good  thing— I  guess  they'd  better  take  up 
again  with  the  Druids." 

"  They  might,  for  the  matter  of  that ;  ay, 
propagation  of  the  faith  and  spread  of  the 
(Jospel  are  ready  expressions,  but  what  have 
they  cost  the  world  ?  A  frightful  amount. 
Every  fanatic  has  a  mission  of  some  kind  or 
other — one  has  a  patron  saint,  and  importunes 
to  decorate  its  shrine ;  another  starts  off  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  to  carry  a  Bible  to  the 
heath-n.  What  with  churches  and  priests, 
saints  and  shrines,  Bibles  and  tracts,  the 
world  has  been  agitated  and  impoverished, 
and  the  necessities  of  the  poor  made  only  a 
secondary  consideration.  Instead  of  trying 
to  eradicate  poverty,  the  whole  machinery  of 
Christendom  is  kept  in  ceaseless  operation  for 
the  purpose  of  extracting  money — not  of 
course  for  the  relief  of  actual  distress,  but  un 
der  the  pretense  that,  unless  you  teach  reli 
gion,  or  spread  t.he  Gospel,  souls  will  be  driven 
to  perdition  ;  the  real  woes  of  this  life  are  con- ! 
pidercd  but  trivial,  while  the  imaginary  ones 
6f  a  future  state  must  be  averted  at  any  cost."  ' 


"  You  mustn't  forget  that  it  requires  eternal 
!  diligence  to  counteract  the  designs  of  the  evil 
one  ;  the  operations  of  priest-folks  lie  in  that 
direction.  'Tis  something  of  a  tusk  to  clip 
the  wings  of  the  old  dragon,  and  something 
of  a  triumph  to  keep  the  crittur  from  gobbling 
up  all  creation — an't  that  so  1" 

"  Ay,  that's  a  triumph,  to  be  sure  ;  we  hear 
constant  boasts  of  the  triumphs  of  the  truw 
faith — but  which  is  true?  The  Papist  boasts, 
and  so  does  the  Protestant,  and  every  sect^no 
matter  how  great  or  insignificant,  tells  you  of 
Gospel  triumphs ;  and  then  what  are  they 
compared  with  the  efforts  that  have  been 
made,  or  the  sums  which  have  been  lavished 
on  the  insane  idea  of  making  all  men  have 
but  one  faith,  and  forcing  Christianity  on  the 
world  ?  After  all  that  has  been  done,  what  is  the 
actual  progress  ?  Why,  after  nearly  two  thou 
sand  years  of  praying  and  preaching,  begging 
and  compelling,  other  systems  have  not  only 
remained  intact,  but  have  gained  adherents. 
Mohammedanism  has  superseded  i  Christianity 
in  the  East ;  Judaism  still  scorns  its  preteu 
sions,  paganism  is  proud  in  a  vast  contrcl 
while  science,  and  secularism,  and  spiritual 
ism  are  winning  and  drawing  thinking  men 
away  from  the  worship  of  the  cross  and  from 
the  idolatry  of  the  Bible  The  magnificent  ef 
forts  of  Exeter  Hall  are  unavailing ;  the  tor 
rent  of  unbelief  rushes  on.  During  the  last 
sixty  years,  the  Bible  Society  of  Britain  alone, 
has  printed  and  distributed  over  fifty-three  mil 
lions  of  copies  of  the  Christian  Bible,  and  yet  it 
has  been  calculated  that  even  at  this  rate  it 
would  take  1140  more  years,  and  one  hundred 
and  twenty  millions  more  of  money,  to  give  a 
copy  of  this  so-called  free  Gospel  to  every  hu 
man  being !  and  though  millions  have  been 
already  spent  to  circulate  the  Scriptures,  not 
one  person  in  twenty  has  yet  been  favored 
with  the  perusal  of  this  strange  message 
from  God  to  man.  If  the  Gospel,  as  has  been 
alleged,  was  once  preached  to  every  creature, 
the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  must  have  been 
very  few,  or  else  they  must  have  quickly  re 
jected  its  teachings  ;  if  it  was  indispensable 
for  man's  salvation,  what  indifference  and 
cruelty  to  let  its  circulation  depend  upon  the 
uncertain  efforts  of  a  few  believers,  while  vast 
multitudes  are  in  the  mean  time  left  to  perish, 
through  lack  of  knowledge — what  a  sad  re 
flection  upon  the  benevolence  of  a  supreme 
Being !  Christians,  however,  continue  to  boast 
of  the  triumphs  of  grace — meagre  triumphs 
according  to  the  means  used.  Give  me  money 
and  men,  give  me  but  one  fiftieth  part  of 
what  is  actually  wasted  in  efforts  to  Christian 
ize,  and  I  will  Mormonize  Manchester,  Brah- 
minize  Bristol,  and  the  praises  of  Mohammed 
and  the  Koran  shall  be  sung  in  the  streets  of 
London.  Give  me  ample  means  and  resolute 
men,  and  I  can  establish  any  system  !  Christi 
anity  has  already  had  full  sway  for  centuries. 
Kings  have  been  its  nursing  fathers,  it  has 
had  almost  unprecedented  popularity,  and  has 
become  imperial  in  wealth,  power,  and  in 
tolerance  ;  yet  even  now,  refulgent  as  it  may 
seem,  let  candid  men  but  fairly  investigate  ita 
claims,  and  they  will  as  surely  reject  its  an- 
thority. 
"  The  best  years  of  my  life  have  been  spen* 


170 


EXETER    HALL. 


in  an  endeavor  to  make  others  believe  what 
I  could  not  understand  myself.  What  years 
of  trial  many  of  these  have  been  to  me !  and 
what  mental  torture  I  have  suffered  contend 
ing  with  theological  absurdities  !  Investiga 
tion  has,  however,  satisfied  me,  as  it  has  a  host 
of  others ;  and  as  soon  as  the  fallacious  pre 
tensions  of  the  Christian  creed  are  more  fully 
examined  and  exposed,  they  will  be  rejected, 
and  will  follow  the  course  of  other  popular 
delusions  which  have  had  their  day." 

"  That  will  be  the  case.  I  was  once  as  great 
a  stickler  for  them  venerable  chapters  of  in 
spiration  as  any  man  living ;  the  Bible  I  im 
agined  was  law,  physic,  and  divinity,  and 
every  thing  else ;  what  I  couldn't  under 
stand  at  one  time,  I  thought  I'd  be  able  to 
make  out  at  another.  I  used  to  read  and  read, 
and  felt  mighty  cheap  at  times  when  I  couldn't 
riddle  out  the  meaning ;  still  I  b'lieved,  and 
still  I  doubted  ;  then,  after  a  time,  I  began  to 
think  that  something  wasn't  all  right — 'twas 
I,  of  course,  was  rather  slack — and  soon  as 
a  doubt  came,  so  soon  was  I  bound  to  find  out 
the  exact  truth.  Guess  I  had  a  lively  time  of 
it  for  a  while ;  but  at  last  truth  came,  and 
truth  in  the  end  was  too  much  for  the  Bible. 
I've  been  among  Christian  men  and  women 
since  I  was  so  high,  through  York  State, 
and  Pennsylvania,  and  New-Jersey,  and  many 
other  places  —  among  Episcopalians,  Metho 
dists,  Presbyterians,  Baptists,  and  twenty  other 
different  kinds ;  good  Lord  1  they're  all  alike, 
the  people  never  think  ;  religious  folks,  in  one 
way,  are  all  of  a  stripe — they  just,  nine  out 
of  ten  of  'em  b'leeve  what  they're  told,  pay 
little  or  much  right  down,  and  ask  no  ques 
tions.  And  then  there's  the  preachers  or 
ministers,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  them, 
pretty  well  stuck  up,  most  of  .them  living  at 
their  ease — despots  and  exclusives  in  a  small 
way — I  won't  say  all  of  them,  but  pretty 
much  all ;  some  of  them  are  sincere  enough, 
but  others  are  chuck  full  of  the  old  Adam ; 
they  hitch  right  on  and  take  to  sinning  quite 
natural-like  ;  they  an't  often  stuck  when  they 
want  to  start,  they  pitch  right  in,  and  then 
when  they  fall  from  grace,  they  talk  about 
remorse  and  make  out  to  feel  rather  cheap ; 
but  when  there's  a  general  row,  and  when  it 
gets  into  the  papers,  or  if  the  business  is 
pretty  scaly,  they  sometimes  quietly  slip 
cable,  make  tracks,  or  go  off,  just  like  our 
friend  the  moderator." 

rt  No  doubt  Harry  was  surprised  when  he 
heard  of  that — he  must  have  seen  it  in  the  pa 
pers.  Ah!  sure  I  know  something  of  the  cler 
gy,  but  let  them  go  for  the  present.  Here  we 
are  in  sweet  old  Cove  once  more;  but  sure 
now  'tis  Queenstown— still  the  place  is  all  the 
.  same— they  can't  change  that.  See,  there's 
the  guard-ship,  and  that  one  over  the  way  is 
the  hulk  or  prison-ship.  I'll  warrant  they've 
got  more  than  one  Irish  rebel  on  board  for  ex 
portation — well,  God  help  the  poor  fellows  ! 
and  there's  vessels,  big  and  little,  bound  lor  the 
four  quarters  of  the  woi Id.  Isn't  this  a  har 
bor  fit  for  paradise?  'tis,  faith,  if  there  is 
such  a  place,  and  I  hope  there  is.  Look  at 
that  old  church  away  up  on  the  hill,  and 
streets  and  houses,  like  huge  steps  of  stairs, 
rising  up  from  the  water.  You're  sure  to  find 


churches  wherever  you  go ;  like  the  cler 
gy,  they  are  fond  of  elevated  positions. 
"L'is  no  great  matter  in  Ireland  whether 
there's  a  congregation  or  not — where  there's 
a  church,  there  must  be  a  salary.  But 
what  have  I  got  to  do  with  churches  now  ? 
I'm  no  longer  a  priest,  but  a  poor  pariah ;  I 
will  no  more  urge  the  erection  of  temples, 
but  do  what  I  can  to  undermine  the  stately 
fabric  of  superstition.  Ay,  there's  the  old 
sod,  the  fine  green  fields  again  ;  I  some  way 
think  it  does  one  good  to  step  on  native  soil 
Psha !  how  hard  'tis  to  get  r  d  of  old  notions. 
What  is  country  or  creed  to  me  now  ?  just 
old  notions,  nothing  more.  A  subdivided 
world  is  hostile  to  humanity.  Henceforth,  I 
shall  humbly  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  that 
true  friend  of  man,  who  said,  '  The  world 
is  my  country,  to  do  good  my  religion.'  " 

After  Mr.  Capel  left  England,  his  loss  was 
not  only  felt  by  the  family  at  Hampstead,  but 
also  in  a  particular  manner  by  the  Eev.  Mr. 
McGlinn.  That  tottering  pillar  of  the  Roman 
Church  found  himself  almost  alone.  Mr. 
Capel  was  a  companion  to  whom  he  could 
freely  unburden  his  mind,  and  from  whom, 
he  well  knew,  he  would  receive  sympathy. 
An  apparent  conformity  to  the  doctrines  and 
ceremonies  of  his  church  had  already  become 
I  insupportable,  and  a  thorough  invostio-ation 
i  into  the  claims  of  the  Bible  had  satisfied  him 
that  Christianity  was  based  upon  a  false  foun 
dation.  He  never  studied  the  problem  which 
no  doubt  deters  many  others — how  am  I  to 
live  if  I  resign  my  charge  ?  but,  true  to  his  own 
honest  nature,  he  decided  to  leave  the  church 
and  renounce  the  faith,  to  take  his  chance 
among  thinking  men,  and  to  warn  others 
against  the  pretensions  of  creed  and  authority 
of  inspiration.  Yet,  though  he  loved  truth,  he 
dreaded  the  obloquy  which  would  follow  his 
desertion  of  the  faith.  Surrounded  as  he  was 
by  thorough  adherents  of  the  church,  he  had 
not  one  in  whom  to  confide  ;  and  when  he  men 
tioned  a  doubt,  or  threw  out  a  hint  respecting 
his  unbelief,  he  was  only  laughed  at  by  bro 
ther  priests,  who  could  not  admit  that  he  was 
serious. — Wasn't  he  an  eccentric — sure  he 
was  controversial  Tom,  and  drunk  or  sober  he 
had  a  leaning  for  argument ;  when  the  Pro 
testant  was  routed,  he  would  attack  the  Papist 
— any  thing  for  argument.  So  the  priests  of 
Moorfields  still  thought ;  but  Father  Tom  was 
in  some  respects  a  very  changed  man — he  had 
become  abstemious,  and  instead  of  festive  de 
bates  or  post  prandial  polemics,  he  ventured 
on  skepticism  ;  but  were  his  clerical  friends 
even  satisfied  of  his  total  unbelief,  they  would 
have  had  more  consideration  for  him  than  if  he 
had  merely  changed  his  faith.  To  leave  the 
mother  church  for  "  Luther's  bantling  of  apos 
tasy  "  would,  in  their  opinion,  be  an  ecclesi 
astical  crime,  not  to  be  forgiven  in  this  world 
or  the  next.  Anyway,  Mr.  McGlinn  was  de 
termined  to  be  free  ;  and,  as  he  had  business  in 
Ireland  about  that  time,  he  notified  the  bishop, 
and  received  the  usual  permission,  lie  de 
sired  to  depart  in  peace,  and  let  the  anathema 
of  excommunication  afterward  follow. 

Having  therefore  made  up  his  mind  to 
leave  London,  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Capel,  from 
whom  he  had  lately  received  a  letter ;  theii 


EXETER   HALL. 


171 


positions  were  similar.  He  had  not  yet  de 
cided,  as  to  his  future  course ;  he  was  compara 
tively  poor,  so  was  Mr.  Cape!  ;  not  only  would 
people  of  his  late  creed  look  coldly  on  him, 
but  Christians  as  a  body  would  mark  their  dis 
trust,  and  perhaps  attribute  any  thing  but 
the  purest  motives  for  his  rejection  of 
the  faith.  He  would  now  be  obliged  to  stem 
the  current  against  which  he  had  faced ;  this 
he  was  willing  to  do  ;  and  as  something  must 
be  done  to  earn  a  livelihood,  he  wrote  to  consult 
his  Mend,  who  himself  was  rather  irresolute ; 
it  might  be  that  they  could  unite  in  opening 
a  school  or  seminary,  or  in  establishing 
an  institution  of  the  kind ;  and  if  the 
spirit  of  intolerance  interfered  with  their  suc 
cess  in  their  native  land,  why,  the  world  was 
wide,  and  they  could  cross  the  sea.  This  was 
the  purport  of  the  letter  which  he  had  dis 
patched  to  Mr.  Capel ;  he  had  about  a  week  yet 
to  remain  before  he  could  complete  his  ar 
rangements,  and  in  the  mean  time  he  thought 
it  his  duty  to  pay  perhaps  a  last  visit  to  his 
friend  Mr.  Mannors,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
but  once  since  the  departure  of  Mr.  Capel. 

No  one  could  have  received  a  greater  wel 
come  at  Heath  Cottage.  Mr.  Mannors,  cheer 
ful  as  ever,  met  him  at  the  garden-gate,  and 
after  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  gave  him  a 
good-natured'  reproof  for  what  he  called  his 
desertion.  What  a  pleasant  home !  even  af 
ter  the  dreary  visits  of  sorrow,  the  sunlight 
streamed  down  and  seemed  to  renew  happi 
ness  within  the  dwelling.  Still  there  was 
a  want — Harry  was  away ;  Mr.  McGlinn  had 
never  been  there  before  but  in  his  company, 
and,  though  it  was  springtime  again,  he 
thought  of  the  gloomy  November  day  when 
they  both  left  the  place  together.  And  then  ' 
how  changed  Miss  Mannors  looked  ;  there  was  , 
a  sadness  in  her  appearance,  yet  how  warmly 
she  pressed  his  hand,  and  how  earnestly  she 
asked  him  if  he  had  often  heard  from  Ireland, 
and  then,  after  a  little  hesitation,  how  she 
had  even  ventured  to  mention  Mr.  Capel's 
name. 

"  Oh !  he  has  forgotten  us,"  said  Mr.  Man 
nors,"  as  you  almost  did  yourself.  What  do 
you  think,  only  one  solitary  letter  from  him 
since  he  left  us — indeed,  that  was  scarcely  a 
letter,  a  few  expressions  of  gratitude  for  all  I 
had  done  for  him,  but  at  the  same  time  posi 
tively  declining  the  only  little  favor  I  ever 
tried  to  bestow.  Indeed,  it  could  scarcely  be 
called  a  favor ;  when  he  was  going  away,  I 
inclosed  a  check  for  a  hundred  pounds — mere 
ly  as  a  loan  if  he  liked.  I  did  not  tell  him 
at  the  time  what  it  was ;  I  told  him  not  to 
open  the  letter  until  he  got  to  Ireland,  but 
in  less  than  a  week  after  he  left,  back  came 
my  check,  and  we  have  never  heard  from 
him  since.  Now,  Father  McGlinn,  isn't  that 
ungrateful  ?" 

"  Well,  upon  my  sowl,  I  rather  like  it.  But 
begging  your  pardon,  Mr.  Mannors,  don't  fa- 
thcr  me  any  more — I'm  done  with  all  that. 
When  you  saw  me  last  in  town,  you  might  have 
guessed  at  what  was  going  to  happen — you 
remember  what  I  told  you.  Well,  sir,  at 
this  blessed  moment  I'm  an  independent 
heathen  at  your  service  ;  faith,  in  one  sense 
not  very  independent  either,  but  any  way 
free  from  all  ecclesiastical  bonds,  and  quite 


indifferent  to  interdicts.  Well,  even  that's 
something  to  boast  of,  after  nearly  fifty 
years  of  servility  to  an  idea.  Yes,  I  admit 
it  looks  ungrateful  on  Harry's  part,  but,  Lord 
bless  you  1  you  don't  know  him.  Poor  fellow ! 
the  day  he  left  here  with  me  was,  I'm  sure, 
the  most  miserable  one  of  his  existence  ;  I 
saw  it,  he  could  scarcely  speak,  and  when 
the  big  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  as  we  vere 
parting,  he  spoke  of  you  as  having  been  a 
I  most  generous  benefactor,  and  of  you,  Miss 
|  Mannors,  as  being  an  angel  of  light — faith,  he 
did.  Ungrateful !  not  a  bit  of  it.  He  may 
be  troubled  perhaps  with  a  little  Irish  pride, 
j  or  he  may  have  too  much  spirit,  but  nothing 
like  ingratitude.  If  you  were  to  see  his  let 
ters — indeed,  I  once  told  him  he  should  direct 
them  to  you  instead  of^to  me — nearly  all 
about  Hampstead  and  Heath  Cottage,  and 
Mr.  Mannors,  and  his  angel-daughter." 

"  Well,  well,  he's  a  strange  fellow  ;  I  hope 
we  haven't  got  rid  of  him  altogether.  Yea, 
Mr.  McGlinn,  I  remember  our  last  conversa- 
sion  in  the  city,  and  I  am  not  surprised  at 
the  result — I  sincerely  congratulate  you  upon 
your  mental  freedom ;  and  now  I  trust  you 
are  going  to  remain  with  us  a  few  days,  and 
not  leave  us  in  a  hurry,  as  your  friend  Capel 
did." 

"Remain!  there's  not  much  for  me  now 
but  leave-taking  ;  sure,  I  daren't  stay  here, 
besides,  haven't  I  Harry's  last  letter  hurrying 
me  away  ?  Somehow,  I  don't  think  he's  at  all 
happy  in  Ireland  ;  he  wants  to  try  the  other 
end  of  the  world,  and  wishes  to  consult  me 
about  going  to  Australia." 

Miss  Mannors  had  to  blush  once  or  twice 
during  the  conversation  ;  now,  from  some  sud 
den  cause,  she  grew  pale  and  faint,  and  a 
dimness  affected  her  sight. 

"Australia  !  Why,  who  ever  heard  the  like  of 
that  ?  Just  think,  Pop,  of  the  man  going  away, 
away  to  Australia,  like  a  romantic  missionary, 
perhaps  to  be  devoured  by  Christianized 
savages  !  How  long  has  he  had  that  notion  ?" 

"  'Pon  my  word,  I  can't  exactly  say — not 
long,  anyway.  You  see  he  hasn't  been  very 
successful — many  of  his  old  religious  friends 
gave  him  the  cold  shoulder.  He's  very  sensi 
tive,  and,  to  my  surprise,  has  lately  be 
come  rather  anxious  for  wealth.  I  know  that 
since  he  left  here,  Hampstead  has  been  often 
in  his  dreams  ;  and  now,  as  if  there  was  some 
connection  therewith,  he  dreams  of  gold,  lie 
would  like  to  grow  suddenly  rich — yet  a  thou 
sand  pounds  will  do  him  ;  and  as  there  is  no 
possible  chance  of  finding  or  making  such  a 
sum  here,  he  is  willing  to  seek  it  in  far-off 
Australia." 

"Ah !  what  a  foolish  dreamer,  when  he  might 
be,  perhaps,  much  more  successful  nearer 
home.  How  does  he  know  but  some  well-to- 
do  relative  would  turn  up,  and  save  him  such 
a  long  voyage?  Well,  we  must  see  to  this  ;  T 
do  not  want  to  have  members  of  my  church 
scattered  about ;  we,  too,  have  a  labor  of  love 
to  perform,  we  must  act  as  missionaries  in  a 
noble  cause,  but  let  us  first  attend  to  the  en 
slaved  and  unconverted  in  Britain — here  is  the 
stronghold  of  the  enemy.  And  now,  Mr.  Mc 
Glinn,  while  you  and  I  try  to  devise  some 
plan  to  keep  our  increasing  flock  together, 
perhaps  you,  Miss  Pop,  might  consult  your 


172 


EXETER    HALL. 


legal  adviser,  should  he  favor  us  with  another 
visit.  Mr.  Bross  might  be  able  to  suggest 
how  we  can  lawfully  prevent  Mr.  Capel  from 
wandering  away  to  distant  lands." 

Depressed  as  Mr.  McGliim  must  have  been 
at  the  time  he  called  to  pay  this  last  visit, 
the  short  stay  he  made  at  Hampstead  served 
greatly  to  cheer  his  spirits,  and  to  give  him 
confidence  in  the  future.  His  benevolent  host 
was  ever  hopeful,  and  ever  anxious  to  forward 
the  interests  of  the  deserving.  It  was  most 
gratifying  to  learn  that  the  health  of  Mrs. 
Mannors  was  very  much  improved,  and  that 
there  was  every  probability  of  her  complete 
and  speedy  restoration  ;  during  the  last  month, 
there  had  been  a  marked  improvement.  He 
Lad  also  the  pleasure  of  meeting  his  American 
friend,  Mr.  Samuel  Styles,  the  late  keeper  at 
the  Home.  Doctor  Buster's  career  was  freely 
discussed  ;  his  death  had  caused  a  great  sensa 
tion  in  the  religious  world,  and  altnost  to  the 
last,  a  certain  pious  journal  in  the  Presbyterian 
interest  persisted  in  asserting  that  the  un 
timely  end  of  the  estimable  and  talented 
moderator  was  the  sad  result  of  insanity,  in 
duced  by  the  systematic  persecution  of  certain 
noted  infidels,  aided,  it  was  to  be  deplored,  by  a 
few  jealous  sectarians  who  claimed  to  be 
ministers  and  servants  of  the  living  God.  The 
Kev.  Andrew  Campbell  also  favored  such  re- 
I>ort8  ;  but  his  opinion  was  somewhat  altered 
when  he  made  the  very  unpleasant  discovery 
that  he  was  held  responsible  to  the  city  bank 
for  a  thousand  pounds,  drawn  by  the  late  Doctor 
Buster  a  day  or  two  before  his  death.  Other 
revelations  also  tended  to  place  the  defunct 
moderator  in  no  very  enviable  light,  and  for 
some  time  afterward  when  church-members, 
and  brethren,  and  sisters,  still  strong  in  the 
Lord,  ventured  to  allude  to  their  once  re 
nowned  preacher — their  denominational  idol 
— they  were  wont  to  exclaim,  "Alas  !  alas  I  how 
are  the  mighty  fallen." 

Before  the  ex-priest  took  his  departure  from 
Hampstead,  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Styles, 
who  was  desirous  of  visiting  Ireland,  should 
accompany  him ;  this  was  most  agreeable. 
And  as  Mr.  Mannors  was  recommended  to 
give  his  wife  the  benefit  of  change  of  air 
and  change  of  scene,  being  anxious  to  see 
Mr.  Capel  again,  he  thought  a  trip  to  Ireland 
would  be  just  the  thing.  To  the  delight  of 
Mr.  McGlinn,  he  therefore  promised  that  he 
and  his  wife  and  daughter  would  meet  them 
in  Cork  on  the  first  of  May.  The  afflicted 
widow  of  the  late  Doctor  Buster  and  her  only 
child  had  been  kindly  cared  for  at  Heath  Cot 
tage  ;  about  two  weeks  previously,  they  had 
been  taken  by  friends  to  Bristol. 

The  two  travelers  who  had  held  a  conversa 
tion  on  the  deck  of  the  steamer  have  no 
doubt  been  recognized  as  Father  Tom  and 
his  American  friend,  Styles ;  they  landed  in 
Queenstown,  and,  having  remained  a  day  in 
that  favorite  resort,  started  again  on  a  fine 
spring  morning.  As  they  passed  up  the  river, 
the  scenery  along  the  banks  of  the  "  pleasant 
Waters  "  seemed  enchanting ;  in  an  hour  or 
two  they  heard  the  melody  of  the  Shandon 
bells,  and  found  one  true  friend  to  give  them 
a  cordial  greeting  ^u  their  arrival  in  the 
"  Beautiful  City ' 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

MRS.  MANNORS  was  at  Hampstead  again, 
mentally  restored,  but  still  rather  weak  and 
worn  after  months  of  dreary  confinement, 
and  after  the  peculiar  treatment  to  which  she 
had  been  subjected  in  that  other  Home,  out 
of  which  comparatively  few  indeed  had  ever 
escaped.  Oh !  how  grateful  she  felt  for  the 
blessing  of  reason.  She  had  but  a  dim 
recollection  of  her  long  restraint,  yet  she 
guessed  at  the  sad  truth  ;  painful  to  her  memo 
ry,  it  recurred  like  a  confused,  dismal  dream. 
Yes,  she  was  home  and  restored,  and  at  times 
she  almost  wept  at  what  seemed  to  be  to  her  a 
fresh  evidence  of  mercy.  Another  glorious 
morning  had  again  appeared,  she  could  look  up 
to  the  mild  heavens  and  see  the  early  lark  soar 
ing  in  the  blue  sky.  Springtime  had  again 
returned  with  its  budding  beauty  ;  she  could 
see  the  garden-walks  fringed  once  more  with 
the  variegated,  ornamental  work  of  nature,  and 
she  could  even  look  calmly  upon  the  distant 
glittering  cross  of  St.  Paul's,  and  watch  the 
sunlight  flinging  beams  over  the  Surrey  hills  ; 
yet  nothing  visionary  came  to  disturb  her 
imagination — it  was  happiness.  She  was 
again  in  her  own  pleasant  cottage  ;  there  were 
those  around  her  who  showed  the  most  affec 
tionate  care,  and  nothing  was  left  undone  to 
win  her  back  to  cheerfulness :  even  Flounce 
seemed  doubly  attached ;  he  followed  her 
about,  and  in  short,  quick  barks  tried  to  make 
her  understand  his  delight.  She  was  still 
religious,  but  that  feeling  came  back  in  a 
subdued  form,  more  under  the  control  of  her 
reason.  She  had  an  increased  regard  for  her 
husband,  but  as  yet  none  of  her  old  anxiety 
concerning  his  conversion.  At  first  she  won 
dered  what  had  become  of  Mr.  Capel ;  it 
peemed  strange  that  he  should  not  be  there 
to  greet  her,  and  she  fancied  that  he  was  still 
away  on  the  circuit  calling  sinners  to  repent 
ance  ;  and  then  often  as  she  thought  of  her 
dear,  lost  boy — her  great  bereavement — her 
true  maternal  nature  paid  its  repeated  tribute 
to  his  memory.  As  for  poor  Hannah,  she  was 
delighted ;  what  pleasure  she  anticipated  in 
again  being  privileged  to  give  a  relation  of 
her  spiritual  trials  and  conflicts  to  her  best 
friend,  and  though  particularly  warned  to  say 
little  or  nothing  to  her  mistress  on  the  sub 
ject  of  religion,  she  could  scarcely  withhold 
pious  ejaculations,  and,  as  soon  as  she  was 
alone,  she  would  commence  with  renewed 
vigor  to  praise  the  Lord  and  take  a  look  at 
John  Bunyan. 

It  was  now  the  end  of  April ;  in  a  few  days 
they  would  start  for  Ireland.  Mr.  Mannors 
had  made  every  necessary  arrangement,  and 
he  anticipated  good  results  from  the  excur 
sion.  His  wife  would,  no  doubt,  be  greatly 
benefited,  and  for  certain  reasons  he  was 
particularly  desirous  of  meeting  Mr.  Capel ; 
indeed,  what  he  had  heard  from  Mr.  McGlinn 
only  made  him  more  anxious  in  this  particular, 
and  it  did  not  lessen  him  in  his  estimation  ; 
he  was  rather  more  strongly  impressed  with 
the  idea  that  his  daughter's  h»ppiness  depend, 
ed  a  good  deal  upon  the  course  which  that  gen. 
erous  young  man  might  determine  to  pursue 
He  never  mentioned  this  matter  to  Mrs.  Man 


-EXETER    HALL. 


178 


nt>rs  ;  lie  felt  somewhat  reluctant,  lie  wished 
to  wait  until  it  was  perhaps  more  matured. 
He  well  knew  that  she  had  been  very  partial 
toward  the  young  preacher,  and  though  she 
had  heard  of  his  resignation  and  expulsion, 
still  her  discrimination  led  her  to  believe  him  in 
natural  disposition  to  be  one  of  the  excellent  of 
the  earth.  She,  of  course,  regretted  his  apos 
tasy  ;  however,  she  could  make  an  allowance 
for  his  defection,  for  she  was  inclined  to  think 
that  Mr.  Baker  had  been  too  peremptory  and 
severe  ;  but,  notwithstanding  what  had  passed, 
she  entertained  hopes  that  at  some  future  day 
Mr.  Capel  would  return  to  the  church  like  a 
repentant  prodigal. 

Time  m-w  by  ;  they  were  to  leave  home  next 
day.  Hannah,  and  another  pious  woman,  and 
Robert  were  to  remain  in  charge  of  the  house  ; 
the  family  might  be  a  week  or  two  away.  One 
who  was  to  be  left  thought  such  a  chance  a 
godsend,  and  she  had  resolved  to  make  the 
most  of  it.  Hannah  privately  determined  that 
when  she  had  the  place  to  herself  she  would 
disregard  all  protestations  from  Robert  or  any 
one  else,  and  tumble  out,  scrub,  and  overhaul 
every  thing  she  could  lay  hands  on  ;  she  an 
ticipated  a  term  of  delightful  confusion,  and, 
eager  for  her  task,  she  was  impatient  to  have 
full  control  of  the  premises. 

Trunks  and  boxes  had  at  last  been  packed, 
and  every  one  had  retired  for  the  night ;  re 
pose  came  to  all  others,  but  Mary  Manners 
could  not  sleep.  It  was  an  hour  of  stillness  ; 
she  sat  at  her  window  and  looked  out  pensive-  [ 
ly  upon  the  calm,  moonlit  scenery.  The  tall 
trees  were  motionless,  and  their  young  leaves  i 
scarcely  stirred  in  the  soft  whispers  of  the 
night  air.  What  were  her  thoughts?  Per 
haps  in  less  than  another  week  she  would 
know  her  fate — she  would  learn  that  which 
might  make  her  either  happy  or  wretched  for 
ever.  She  loved — was  it  a  flower  that  was 
doomed  to  wither  prematurely  Y  She  hid  the 
flame  from  all,  and  now  it  was  consuming  her 
own  bosom.  Alone  she  could  think  of  Henry 
Capel,  and  she  was  thinking  of  him  now. 
What  if  he  had  truly  determined  to  leave  all 
and  go  to  a  distant  land  ?  She  well  knew  that 
if  one  word  from  her  could  bid  him  stay  :  she 
could  not  speak  it — she  could  not  even  by  one 
word  avert  her  doom.  Yet  she  had  hopes  ;  she 
had  been  greatly  encouraged  by  what  Mr.  Mc 
Glinn  had  said  about  his  friend.  Did  he  not 
write  often  about  Hampstead,  and  allude  to 
her  as  being  an  angel,  and  then  was  he  not 
anxious  to  get  rich  ?  What  could  that  be  for? 
Bhe  had  often  and  often  heard  him  say  that 
lie  cared  not  for  wealth,  that  he  could  be  sat 
isfied  with  n  modest  portion,  with  an  humble 
home  and  peace  of  mind.  Could  it  be  possi 
ble  that  he  wished  to  get  rich  for  her  sake? 
Would  that  that  were  his  desire  1  She  would 
then  tell  him,  yes,  tell  him  how — but,  alas! 
her  lips  would  be  sealed  ;  she  could  ne\  er  tell 
him  how  dear  lie  would  be  to  her,  even  were 
he  in  the  most  abject  poverty.  No  ;  it  might 
be  that  at  theii  next  interv  ew,  should  he  tell 
her  of  his  intended  voyage,  she  would  seem 
only  a  little  surprised,  might  appear  quite  in 
different,  and  then  that  wretched  simulation 
might  drive  him  away  forever.  Poor  Mary ! 
fihe  soon  forgot  her  troubles  in  quiet  slumbers, 


and  bright  dreams  again  brought  visions  of 
happiness. 

They  had  been  nearly  a  week  in  Cork. 
What  a  meeting  of  true  friends !  It  was  a 
week  of  happiness  to  Mr.  Mannors,  a  week 
of  great  restoration  to  his  wife,  and  a  period 
of  almost  perfect  bliss  to  two  young  persons 
who  spent  much  time  together.  Mr.  McGlinn 
began  to  see  matters  in  a  different  light ;  the 
proposals  he  had  made  to  his  friend  Harry 
concerning  a  seminary  were  likely  to  be  ren 
dered  futile  by  the  proposal  which  he  fancied 
that  that  young  gentleman  would  very  prob 
ably  soon  make  himself  to  another  person. 
He  began  to  suspect  something  of  this  kind, 
and  at  the  first  opportunity  he  gave  a  sly  hint 
to  Mr.  Capel,  which  made  Mm  blush  like  a 
girl.  Samuel  Styles  evidently  understood 
what  was  going  on,  and  rather  increased  the 
young  man's  diffidence  by  telling  him  with 
the  most  serious  face  to  go  ahead,  at  the  same 
time  giving  a  side  nod  toward  Miss  Mannors ; 
and  it  was  plainly  seen  that  Mr.  Mannors  favor 
ed  the  intercourse  which  he  saw  was  so  satis 
factory  to  all,  and  which  for  a  long  time  it  had 
been  his  own  desire  to  establish. 

The  strangers  were  delighted  with  the  city 
and  its  attractive  environs  ;  they  had  been 
from  Black  Rock  to  Ballincollig  at  Glanmire 
and  at  Sundays- Well,  and  at  other  places  of 
resort ;  everywhere  the  scenery  was  most 
charming.  Mr.  Mannors  proposed  to  visit  an 
old  friend  in  Mallow,  but  as  Mrs.  Mannors 
wished  to  see  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  it  was 
agreed  that  Samuel  Styles  should  accompany 
Mr.  Mannors,  while  Mr.  Capel,  much  to  his 
satisfaction,  was  to  escort  the  ladies.  Mr. 
McGlinn  had  business  to  detain  him  in  the 
city,  and  he  would  await  their  return. 

in  a  few  days  they  all  met  again.  Mrs. 
Mannors  could  scarcely  speak  of  any  thing 
else  until  she  had  told  the  same  story  over 
and  over  about  the  beauty  of  the  far-famed 
lakes  and  ot  the  exquisite  scenery  of  the  neigh 
borhood.  Miss  Mary  had  nearly  filled  her 
portfolio  with  sketches;  her  devoted  chaperon 
liad  pointed  out  the  most  attractive  landscapes, 
and  she  was  entirely  guided  by  him  in  the 
selection  of  views ;  as  it  was,  she  somehow 
found  singular  difficulty  in  transferring  them 
to  paper  ;  but  they  would  answer  well  enough 
to  remind  her  in  after-years  of  some  of  the  hap 
piest  days  of  her  life.  During  their  stay,  they 
had  sailed  upon  the  crystal  waters  fr<  >m  one 
fairy-like  spot  to  another,  they  had  had  little 
private  picnics  on  romantic  islands,  and  had 
visited  retreats  sacred  to  lovers'  vows. 
Whether  Henry  Cape]  ever  had  an  opportunity 
of  taking  any  advantage  which  such  retreats 
might  have  afforded  and  of  finding  sufficient 
courage  to  make  an  avowal  on  his  own  account 
has  not  been  made  known  ;  as  far  as  this  was 
concerned,  he  was  rather  reticent ;  but  if  words 
did  not  reveal  the  secret,  there  was  a  tell-tale 
expression  in  his  face  which  might  fully  sat 
isfy  even  such  as  were  not  very  close  observers 
that  he  had  most  probably  asked  some  partic 
ular  person  a  very  particular  favor,  and  that  it 
had  been  granted.  Any  way,  after  he  had  re 
turned,  nothing  more  was  heard  about  crossing 
the  stormy  sea  or  of  going  to  Australia  ;  instead 
of  that,  his  excursive  notions  wandered  no 


174 


EXETER    HALL. 


further  than  "Blarney  " —  to  that  place  he  pro 
posed  a  visit.  Father  Tom  recommended  him 
to  be  sure  and  kiss  the  famous  stone,  for  the 
sake  of  good  luck  ;  after  that  he  would  acquire 
a  peculiar  kind  of  assurance,  and  might  ven 
ture  such  an  attempt  upon  a  softer  and  more 
impressive  substance. 

They  were  at  Hampstead  once  more.  During 
their  absence  Hannah  had  worked  wonders — 
every  thing  around  the  place  had  a  shiny, 
smiling  appearance  ;  every  piece  of  furniture 
looked  brisk  and  polished,  just  as  if  it  were  in 
clined  to  laugh  ;  the  garden  appeared  to  yield 
its  greatest  profusion  of  flowers,  the  birds 
to  sing  sweeter  and  louder.  The  fountain 
gashed  up  higher,  sparkling  in  the  clear  air 
like  liquid  light,  and  the  tall  trees,  crowned 
with  azure,  seemed  to  whisper  joyful  news  to 
each  other — murmuring  softly,  lest  the  listen 
ing  black-feathered  rooks  in  their  branches 
should  overhear  the  tidings.  Nature  seemed 
to  have  come  out  in  holiday  garb  ;  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  were  alike  serene  and  beau 
tiful.. 

.  Hannah  had  received  a  hint  that  there 
might  probably  be  a  great  day  at  the  cottage, 
and  she  did  her  best  to  meet  the  occasion. 
Truly  she  had  succeeded  so  well  that  Mr. 
Manners  himself  was  surprised  at  the  change  ; 
upon  his  arrival  he  gave  her  a  gold  coin, 
which,  with  a  nice  present  from  her  mistress, 
greatly  pleased  the  industrious  maid. 

Although  Henry  Capel  had  given  up  the 
notion  of  crossing  the  wide  sea,  yet  he  readily 
crossed  St.  George's  Channel  to  link  his  fate  j 
with  one  whom  to  gain  he  would  have  will 
ingly  braved  the  dangers  of  a  thousand 
oceans,  in  order  to  try  and  procure  that 
thousand  pounds,  the  possession  of  which 
might  embolden  him  to  plead  for  the  hand 
that  was  soon  to  be  his.  Mr.  Manners  had 
long  discovered  his  true  worth,  and  felt  as 
sured  that  one  so  noble  in  mind,  so  honorable 
in  conduct,  and  so  unselfish  as  he  had  already 
proved,  would  be  more  likely  to  make  his 
daughter  happy  than  a  wealthy  suitor  with 
out  such  sterling  principles ;  and  soon  as  he 
was  convinced  that  Mary  Manners  had  more 
than  an  ordinary  regard  for  Henry  Capel,  he 
made  a  legal  settlement  in  her  favor,  secur 
ing  to  her  sufficient  property  to  place  her  in 
easy  circumstances.  He  had  lost  his  only  son, 
and  to  a  certain  extent  no  one  could  so  well 
fill  his  place  as  the  person  on  whom  his 
daughter  had  fixed  her  affections. 

The  day  had  been  named  when  the  wedding 
was  to  take  place.  Father  Tom — his  friend 
Harry  would  call  him  nothing  else — had  been 
prevailed  upon  to  return  with  the  little  party  ; 
Mr.  Mannors  would  hear  of  no  excuse.  Samuel 
Styles  would  be  there,  and  a  select  few — every 
thing  was  settled.  A  beautiful  day  daAvned  ; 
the  sunbeams  rushed  down  like  invited  guests, 
they  danced  in  the  garden,  flung  the  fragrance  , 
from  the  flowers,  and  then  lingered  around 
ihe  doorway,  looked  in  at  the  windows,  nnd 
peeped  into  every  place  where  a  shadow  might 
hide,  as  if  to  chase  it  away  ;  and  then  they 
seemed  mingling  and  gliding  through  the 
pure  air  as  if  weaving  a  garland  of  light  for 
the  brow  of  the  bride. 

The    benevolent    Martin    Mannors     never 


looked  more  happy;  he  was  radiant  witb 
smiles,  and  his  wife  was  serene  and  cheerful. 
Father  Tom  felt  an  inspiration  of  wit,  and 
Mr.  Samuel  Styles  threatened  matrimony 
on  his  return  to  America.  The  young  people 
were  married,  there  was  a  sumptuous  repast, 
others  were  not  forgotten,  every  poor  family 
in  the  neighborhood  bad  a  better  dinner  than 
usual  on  that  day,  and  many  of  the  homeless 
ones  were  seated  in  the  garden  and  fed  bounti 
fully  ;  and  when  Henry  Capel  and  his  brie. e 
entered  the  carriage  to  start  upon  a  wedding 
tour,  a  number  of  persons — young,  old,  healthy 
and  decrepit — who  had  assembled  on  the  road 
side,  regarded  the  married  pair  with  the  great 
est  interest,  and  the  murmured  wishes  for 
their  happiness  and  long  life  could  be  heard 
around  ;  and  when  at  last  the  vehicle  moved 
off  there  was  an  impulsive  cheer,  and  Father 
Tom,  who  stood  at  the  gate,  gave  a  lusty  shout, 
and  then,  with  considerable  force,  flung  an 
old  shoe  after  the  open  carriage,  which  most 
fortunately  just  escaped  the  bridegroom's 
head. 

The  May  meetings  at  Exeter  Hall  had  again 
taken  place.  The  great  Bible  Society  had 
once  more  made  its  annual  effort.  The  seme 
distinguished  chairman  had  presided,  many 
of  the  lordly  and  reverend  speakers  had 
made  their  fresh  appeals,  and  almost  a  repe 
tition  of  the  same  glowing  speeches  had  been 
delivered  exalting  the  Great  Book,  and  show 
ing  what  had  been  done  for  the  benighted 
during  the  past  year.  The  widow's  mite,  the 
pence  of  the  poor,  and  the  gold  of  the  weal 
thy  had  been  poured  into  the  treasury  of  tho 
Lord,  even  in  excess  of  previous  years,  but 
still  the  receipts  were  wretchedly  deficient. 
Sacerdotal  ingenuity  was  again  set  to  its  task, 
and  the  omnipotence  of  words  was  required 
to  overwhelm  reason  and  conquer  hearts. 
Studied  metaphors,  perfected  flashes  of  ora 
tory,  and  skillfully  prepared  Culminations — 
matured  masterpieces  of  burning  eloquence, 
as  if  fresh  creations  of  a  semi-inspired  imagi 
nation — had  been  flung  like  thunder-bolta 
among  the  mass  of  awe-striick  hearers,  and 
had  again  aroused  the  echoes  of  the  great 
Hall,  and,  with  culminating  grandeur,  evoked 
the  feelings  of  an  almost  breathless  assembly. 
The  effect  was  produced  ;  help,  more  help,  was 
required  in  the  cause  of  the  Lord  against  the 
mighty,  and  liberal  aid  had  again  been  se 
cured  to  fortify  priestcraft  and  intolerance. 

Since  the  last  anniversary,  thousands,  it  was 
said,  had  perished  for  lack  of  knowledge,  at  d 
alas !  thousands  who  knew  not  the  Lord  were 
now  on  the  road  to  eternal  ruin.  The  mourn 
ful  cry,  Save  us,  save  us  !  came  from  afar  ;  it 
was  a  shriek  of  woe,  an  alarm  that  should 
awake  to  powerful  action  entire  Christendom. 
Infidelity  was  still  defiantly  holding  up  its  ac 
cursed  head  ;  let  it  not  defile  the  land.  Bri 
tish  Christians  were  adjured  to  unite  in  a 
greater  effort  for  its  overthrow,  and  they  were 
implored  to  occupy  and  retain  their  present 
advanced  and  distinguished  position  in  the 
cause  of  the  glorious  Gospel. 

Such  were  the  delusive  repetitions  of  Exe 
ter  Hall.  Princely  prelates  and  richly  en 
dowed  priests  in  eloquent  flights  entreating 
the  orthodox  on  behalf  of  those  in  foreig* 


EXETER    HALL. 


175 


lands  assumed  to  be  perishing  for  lack  of 
knowledge,  while  the  increased  number  of 
those  in  their  very  midst,  who  were  known  to 
be  actually  perishing  for  lack  of  food,  claimed 
but  a  secondary  consideration,  and  were  too 
often  left  to  depend  upon  the  humane  impulses 
of  the  "  ungodly,"  or  upon  the  charitable 
efforts  of  unbelievers. 

In  conversation  with  his  friends  on  this  sub 
ject,  Mr.  Manners  said  : 

"  It  has  been  the  cause  of  great  surprise  to 
many  why  there  should  be  so  much  poverty 
even  in  the  very  midst  of  abundance,  and 
comparatively  few  have  ventured  to  ask  why 
there  should  be  any  at  all.  It  is  taken  for 
granted  that  indigence  is  the  necessary  condi 
tion  of  some,  and  divines  have  ever  encour 
aged  the  notion  that  poverty  is  often  a  bless 
ing  in  disguise  ;  for  they  assert  that  the  poor 
belong  to  the  Lord — '  Hath  not  God  chosen 
the  poor  of  this  world  ?'  Yet,  while  lauding 
destitution — for  beggary  favors  humility  and 
dependence — the  church,  as  a  general  rule,  has 
shown  its  worldly  wisdom  by  the  most  con 
temptible  pandering  to  wealth  and  power. 

"  The  rapid  increase  of  pauperism  has  as 
tounded  the  benevolent.  The  millions  of  vic 
tims  to  starvation  in  Ireland,  in  India, 
throughout  Europe,  and  almost  in  every  part 
of  the  earth  where  Christianity  and  its  fos 
tered  civilization  have  control,  have  startled 
many  to  serious  thought,  but  have  scarcely 
affected  the  equanimity  of  rulers  or  priests. 
In  times  of  great  privation,  instead  of  imme 
diate  retrenchment,  armies  are  increased  as  if 
to  avert  a  threatened  danger,  and  while  fam 
ine  gloats  over  its  thousands,  priests  ply  their 
trade  and  collect  for  missions ;  and  these 
funds,  accumulated  for  the  spread  of  the  Gos 
pel,  must  not  be  diverted  from  their  legiti 
mate  course,  even  to  allay  the  pestilence  of 
want.  Priestly  policy,  to  be  sure,  assumes  to 
lead  in  efforts  at  benevolence,  and  as  ostenta 
tious  charity  has  subserved  the  interests  of 
religion,  institutions  were  founded  in  which 
the  poor  might  find  temporary  refuge,  but 
such  wretched  relief  only  engendered  a  de 
pendency  upon  the  priesthood,  and  gained  a 
spurious  reputation  for  a  class  who  gave  back 
but  a  tenth  of  what  they  had  extorted  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord.  * 

"  The  great  question  occurs,  Why  does  so 
much  destitution  exist  ?  The  prominent  cause 
arises  from  the  pauperizing  tendency  of  re 
ligion  ;  the  insatiable  greed  of  "priests  has 
been  too  well  established.  A  great  portion 
of  the  wealth  of  England  is  absorbed  by  them, 
and  what  do  they  give  in  return  ?  They  have 
impoverished  Ireland  as  well  as  Italy,  and  the 
present  condition  of  Austria,  Russia,  France, 
Spain,  and  other  countries  of  Europe  fully  ! 
attests  that  where  a  nation  has  to  support 
such  vast  numbers  of  non-producers  called 
ecclesiastics,  priests,  or  preachers,  dronos  claim 
ing  exemption  from  labor,  and  in  most  cases 
from  taxation,  an  additional  burden  must  of 
necessity  be  placed  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
people.  It  may  be  fairly  asserted  that 
throughout  Europe,  for  every  priest  you  will 
find  ten  soldiers,  and  for  every  soldier  ten  ac- 

*  See  Note  K. 


tual  paupers.  Religion  must  have  prioste, 
nationality  soldiers,  and  poverty  is  the  com 
mon  offspring  of  both.  Religion  and  nation 
ality,  the  theme  of  moralists,  poets,  and  trans- 
cendentalists,  have  been  in  my  opinion  the 
most  fertile  sources  of  misery  to  mankind."* 

"  Well,  I  rather  guess  they  have,"  said 
Samuel  Styles.  "  1  imagine  I  know  a  little  of 
what  religion  has  done  to  delay  progress  and 
turn  things  in  general  upside  down.  Nation 
ality  has  parceled  out  the  whole  earth  into 
little  garden-patches,  like  a  great  field  divided 
and  fenced  off  into  acres.  The  man  squatted 
in  the  north  corner  fancies  that  the  man  in 
the  south  is  a  kind  of  inferior  crittur ;  and  if 
they  make  out  to  quarrel  about  nothing- 
say  "on  a  point  of  honor — why  then  they  go  at 
it  and  rob  and  plunder  each  other  all  they 
can — and  that's  so  much  to  the  account  of  na 
tional  glory !  If  the  man  in  the  east  boasts 
that  the  sun  rises  for  his  sole  advantage,  the 
man  in  the  west  feels  called  upon  to  resent 
the  insult  and  cut  a  foreign  throat  if  he  can. 
That's  called — patriotism.  That's  just  how 
it  works.  What  bosh  !  A  streak  of  mean  self 
ishness  exalted  to  a  virtue.  Yes,  sir,  religion 
and  nationality  have  worked  harmoniously  to 
gether  for  the  benefit  of  kings  and  priests, 
but  have  just  left  the  world  where  it  is." 

"  Those  who  have  thought  most  on  the  sub 
ject,"  said  Mr.  Manners,  "  admit  that  subdi 
visions,  nationalities,  and  creeds  are  favorable 
to  despotism — the  world  united  would  be 
free.  Continue  the  distinction  of  races,  tribes, 
clans,  and  caste,  and  you  keep  mankind  forever 
in  bonds,  and  you  as  surely  perpetuate  the  jeal 
ousy,  hatred,  and  strife  which  have  arisen  from 
such  conditions.  Another  evil  is  the  unfair 
distribution  of  land.  If  the  state  claims  to 
own  the  land,  and  apportions  it  only  to  a  few, 
those  who  own  no  share  of  the  soil,  and  who 
can  not  therefore  produce  food,  should  not  be 
allowed  to  suffer  in  consequence.  The  un 
equal  distribution  of  land  throughout  Britain 
is  infamous.  Every  man  who  has  a  desire  to 
cultivate  a  portion  of  the  soil  should  have  an 
allotment  of  the  same  for  that  purpose.  Talk 
of  vested  rights — rights  secured  to  one  at  the 
expense  of  deprivation  and  destitution  to  hun 
dreds  !  The  people  should  own  the  soil  in  as 
fair  and  reasonable  proportions  as  possible. 
But  how  is  it  here  ?  A  vile  monopoly.  There 
are  in  the.  United  Kingdom  seventy-one  mil 
lions  of  acres,  there  are  about  thirty  millions  of 
inhabitants,  and  yet  the  entire  land  is  in  the 
hands  of  less  than  thirty  thousand  landlords, 
a  vast  quantity  of  the  same  being  vested  in 
the  State  Church.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
men  actually  own  the  half  of  England,  and 
twelve  men  own  the  half  of  Scotland  !  Of 
the  whole  quantity,  less  than  nineteen  mil 
lions  of  acres  are  under  tillage  and  over 
thirty-five  millions  of  acres  entirely  unculti 
vated.  Were  no  person  permitted  to  own 
say  over  a  thousand  acres — which  would  be 
quite  sufficient  for  all  reasonable  purposes — 
what  a  vast  improvement  it  would  be  to  the 
nation  as  well  as  to  the  individual !  But  mark 
the  selfishness  of  some,  particularly  of  the 
aristocracy.  The  Duke  of  Cleveland  has  an 

*  See  Note  L. 


178 


EXETER    HALL. 


estate  twenty-three  miles  along  the  public 
highway ;  the  Duke  of  Devonshire  owns 
ninety-six  thousand  acres  in  the  county  of 
Derby  alone,  besides  other  immense  estates 
throughout  the  three  kingdoms  ;  the  Duke  of 
Richmond  has  three  hundred  thousand  acres 
at  Gordon  Castle,  and  forty  thousand  acres  at 
Goodwood,  besides  vast  estates  at  other  places ; 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk's  park  in  Sussex  is  fif 
teen  miles  in  circumference ;  the  Marquis  of 
Breadalbane  can  ride  a  hundred  miles  in  a 
straight  line  on  his  own  property ;  the  Duke 
of  Sutherland  owns  an  entire  county  in 
Scotland,  from  sea  to  sea.  Other  instances  of 
such  rapacious  monopoly  could  be  given,  but 
the  list  is  long  enough.  Two  thirds  of  the  land 
owned  by  such  persons  is  totally  unimproved, 
and  those  already  in  possession  of  immense 
estates  are  eager  to  acquire  more.  The  late 
Marchioness  of  Stafford  took  from  her  tenants 
over  seven  hundred  and  ninety-four  thousand 
arres,  which  had  been  held  by  them  or  their 
fathers  for  centuries  !  What  can  be  expected 
but  discontent  and  poverty  when  good  land 
is  thus  monopolized  and  .diverted  from  culti 
vation  for  the  purpose  of  enlarging  private 
parks,  or  of  being  made  into  forests  or  sheep- 
walks?  Is  not  this  another  fertile  cause  of 
discontent  ?  Should  such  exclusive  possession 
be  allowed  to  continue  ?  Attempt  to  reform 
the  abuse  for  the  benefit  of  the  plundered 
masses,  and  religion  will'  side  with  the  rapa 
cious,  will  pervert  ideas  of  justice,  and  cry 
out  for  vested  rights :  attempt  a  revolution, 
the  church  will  preach  obedience  to  power, 
it  will  stand  by  the  oppressor,  and  grow  fran 
tic  in  denunciation." 

"  Well,  I  often  heard,"  said  Mr.  Styles, 
"  that  they  used  to  hold  pretty  considerable 
estates  down  South  ;  but  for  one  man  to  hang 
on  to  a  hundred  miles  of  land  right  along  in 
a  straight  line,  is  about  the  tallest  kind  of 
ownership  I  ever  heerd  of.  I  like  your  idea 
of  limiting  a  man  to  a  thousand  acres.  Even 
that's  too  much  of  good,  arable  land  ;  yet  'tis 
a  great  improvement,  and  I  hope  to  see  it  car 
ried  out  yet,  even  were  it  in  Old  Virginny." 

"  'Tis  dreadful  to  think  that  such  a  state  of 
things  should  continue  to  exist,"  resumed  Mr. 
Manners.  "  There  should  be  no  such  thing 
as  actual  poverty  ;  there  is  enough  for  all ;  yet 
what  deplorable  suffering  from  mismanage 
ment  and  i  nj  ustice !  Many  schemes  have  been 
advanced  to  rid  the  world  of  paupers.  Civili 
zation  often  lets  them  perish.  Communists, 
socialists,  and  moral  and  political  reformers 
of  every  degree  have  been  perplexed  with  the 
problem  of  poverty — but  to  what  effectual 
purpose  ?  Unfortunately  it  has  been  too  fre 
quently  assumed  that  privation  is  normal. 
Whence  is  gnastly  pauperism  that  prolific 
parent  of  crime?  It  stalks  through  tlieland 
with  blanched  face  and  hollow  cheek,  sifting 
the  garbage  of  cess-pools,  and  living — yes, 
living— on  refuse  and  rottenness,  and  watching 
with  wolfish  scowl  for  plunder,  or,  it  may  be, 
for  blood  !  Whence  this  phantom  of  moral  and 
physical  disease?  It  is  the  offspring  of  fraud  1 
and  oppression,  the  certain  result  of  a  depriva 
tion  of  human  rights.  Poverty  is  simply  the 
effect  of  a  continued  wrong ;  yet,  if  govern 
ments  were  based  on  just  principles,  the 


remedy  would  be  plain  and  simple.  The  first 
great  move  in  social  reform  should  be  a  re 
storation  of  natural  rights.  Every  brute 
creature  free  from  man's  control  finds'a  boun 
tiful  supply  in  the  lap  of  nature.  Was  lesa 
provision  made  for  man  ?  Every  human  being 
is  entitled  to  light,  air,  food,  clothing,  and 
shelter ;  these  are  natural  rights,  of  which  to 
deprive  any  man  is  to  despoil,  to  rob.  Every 
government  should  guarantee  those  rights 
and  make  them  respected ;  this  should  be  a 
first  and  principal  duty.  Our  poor-law  system 
is  based  upon  the  principle  that  human  crea 
tures  must  not  be  allowed  to  starve,  that  they 
have  a  right  to  food  ;  but  instead  of  properly 
recognizing  this  beneficent  law,  we  delay  in 
most  cases  until  they  are  reduced  to  the  most 
abject  want  before  relief  is  offered ;  tnen 
charity  becomes  a  mark  of  degradation.  How 
does  the  state  assent  ?  It  seldom  interferes 
until  famishing  men  are  driven  to  pauperism 
or  crime,  and  as  soon  as  they  have  become 
disreputable  or  infamous  they  are  fed  and 
cared  for.  The  uncomplaining  poor  may  suf 
fer  without  relief  until  terrible  hunger  has 
overcome  their  good  resolves;  but  when  at 
last  they  become  debauched  by  poverty,  and 
trained  to  felony  by  want,  then  they  are  quali 
fied  for  the  grateful  shelter  of  a  prison  and 
entitled  to  the  food  and  protection  for  which 
they  had  perhaps  reluctantly  bartered  their 
honor. 

"  How  deplorable  I  To  prevent  this,  all 
should  have  their  natural  rights,  rich  and 
poor  alike.  Those  in  need  should  be  able  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  food,  clothing,  and 
shelter  ready  to  be  dispensed  by  the  state. 
Of  course,  there  should  be  a  limitation  until 
the  system  became  general ;  a  country  or 
nation  could  only  afford  to  keep  its  own  peo 
ple,  just  as  a  parish  now  keeps  its  own  poor. 
What  was  given  should  of  necessity  be  plain, 
but  good  and  sufficient ;  it  should  be  furnished 
as  a  right,  not  doled  out  as  a  charity.  That 
which  the  rich  or  prosperous  might  decline 
to  accept  could  be  estimated,  and  an  allowance 
made  for  the  same  on  any  claim  held  against 
them  by  the  government.  Those  who  wished 
for  better  than  the  state  had  to  furnish  should 
gain  it  by  their  own  industry.  Thus,  while 
all  were  insured  against  positive  want,  there 
would  yet  be  an  incentive  to  labor  ;  those  who 
wished  to  advance  in  social  position  would 
have  to  be  diligent  in  order  to  improve  their 
own  condition.  In  connection  with  this,  a 
liberal  education  perfectly  free  from  sectarian 
bias  should  be  placed  within  the  reach  of 
all. 

"  In  such  a  plan  of  benevolence  fairly  in 
practice  there  need  be  no  obtrusive  socialism  ; 
every  one,  as  circumstances  permitted,  would 
be  at  full  liberty  to  accept  or  refuse  that 
which  the  government  had  for  distribution. 
Every  industrious  person  could  acquire  pro 
perty,  live  in  his  own  house,  and  improve  his 
own  condition,  just  as  at  present,  independent 
of  all  others;  but  the  state  should  make  no 
class  distinction  in  the  appropriation  of  simple 
necessaries,  just  as  no  distinction  or  exemp 
tion  would  be  made  among  those  liable  to 
pay  a  rated  proportion  of  taxes.  There  ifl 
generally  an  abundance  of  food  to  be  had,  if 


EXETER    HALL. 


not  in  one  country,  in  another,  and  the 
government  storehouses  should  always  be 
amply  provided.  It  is  not  probable,  however, 
that  eveu  a  third  of  the  population  of  any 
country  would  ever  avail  themselves  of  such 
assistance. 

"  The  establishment  of  any  such  system 
would,  in  my  opinion,  be  a  remedy  for  the 
evil  of  pauperism,  and  the  only  certain  one 
of  which  I  can  conceive.  It  might  be  made  very 
simple,  and,  in  the  long  run.  less  or  no  more 
costly  than  even  the  heavy  penalty  resulting 
from  the  wretched  and  unjust  governmental 
policy,  and  the  disreputable  diplomatic  shifts 
and  stratagems  which  have  obtained  for  cen 
turies,  and  which,  besides  creating  innumera 
ble  woes,  have  vastly  increased  national  ob 
ligations.  The  rich  could  not  reasonably 
complain,  for  all  would  be  privileged  to  par 
take  alike,  and  heavy  imposts,  for  which  the 
wealthy  are  now  mainly  liable,  would  be,  no 
doubt,  greatly  reduced,  and  many  others  en 
tirely  abolished.  The  poor  would  be  made 
more  virtuous,  and  would  not  be  the  humili 
ated  recipients  of  a  stinted,  morose  charity. 
Hunger,  that  great  incentive  to  crime,  would 
be  appeased.  Even  if  actuated  by  no  higher 
motive,  prevention  would  be  better  than  cure, 
and  man  would  feel  more  dignified,  more 
grateful,  and  more  inclined  to  do  what 
was  correct  when  he  learned  to  know  his 
rights,  and  found  them  respected ;  when 
he  was  cared  for  by  his  parent  state,  instead 
of  being  shunned  as  an  outcast,  prostrated  by 
poverty,  and  treated  in  many  respects  worse 
than  a  beast.  And  then  what  a  happy  result 
to  the  state  itself — less  misery,  less  discontent, 
less  degradation,  less  crime,  and  perhaps, 
eventually,  far  less  expense  I  Indeed,  what  it 
now  costs  to  keep  up  additional  armaments, 
armies,  police,  and  numerous  aids  to  suppress 
the  turbulence  created  by  wrong  legislation, 
besides  that  which  is  required  to  put  nume 
rous  pains  and  penalties  in  force,  and  the  im 
mense  sums  wasted  for  many  unworthy  pur 
poses,  would  do  much  to  meet  this  new  and  just 
demand  for  national  benevolence ;  and  as  there 
is  generally  an  excess  of  officials  in  govern 
ment  employ,  none  in  addition  would  be  re 
quired. 

"  I  can  not  go  into  details  more  fully  at  pre 
sent  ;  but  the  management  regarding  plain 
buildings,  with  gardens  or  grounds  to  culti 
vate  if  possible,  to  be  called,  say,  public 
homes,  not  '  poor-houses '  or  '  houses  of 
refuge,'  and  that  concerning  the  distribution 
of  food  and  clothing,  could  be  made  very  sim 
ple  ;  honest  and  careful  legislation  is  only  re 
quired  to  start  the  great  experiment.  And 
satisfied  am  I  that  the  names  of  those  who 
supported  such  a  measure  of  justice  and  hu 
manity  would  be  recorded  on  millions  of  liv 
ing  hearts  and  registered  for  the  gratitude  of 
future  ages." 

"  I  fancy  I  see  what  you're  at,"  said  Samuel 
Styles.  '•  Every  man  belonging  to  a  national 
ship  feels  that  when  he  turns  in  at  night  he 
is  sure  of  his  grub  next  day — no  need  of  pil 
fering  to  get  it.  And  you  would  liken  the 
state  to  a  great  ship,  and  feed  and  clothe  every 
man  on  board.  Somehow  I  like  the  notion — 
guess  'twill  bear  some  calculation.  I'll  figure 


it  up ;  for  even  in  Yankee  land,  though  we 
may  be  a  leetle  ahead  of  all  creation  in  some 
matters,  we  an't  yet  quite  perfect.  Our  gov 
ernment  is  yet  but  an  elective  monarchy  ;  we 
must  get  rid  of  the  '  one-man  ixnver ;'  we 
want  no  uncrowned  kings — our  presiden 
tial  elections  are  sinks  of  political  corruption, 
into  which  all  parties  plunge.  We  need  no 
costly  presidents  to  guide  our  ship  of 
state — they  mostly  rule  for  a  party  ;  and  be 
fore  we  are  entitled  to  be  called  the  '  Great 
Republic,'  we  must  first  be  a  true  republic  ; 
we  must  have  an  economical  government, 
more  simple — like  that  of  the  Swiss,  than  that 
of  flashy,  imperial  France.  'T would  do  our 
senators  and  congressmen  no  harm  to  take  a 
friendly  hint  once  in  a  while  from  such  a  liberal 
British  cousin  ;  it  might  give  us  a  fresh  start 
in  advance  and  do  many  a  world  <>f  good  ; 
and,  acting  at  once  on  your  idea,  we  might  still 
lead  on  in  the  cause  of  human  progress." 

Father  Tom,  who  had  been  listening  atten 
tively  to  all  that  had  been  said  on  the  sub 
ject,  seemed  to  have  been  much  struck  with 
the  benevolence  of  the  plan.  He  remained 
silent  and  reflective  for  some  moments,  and 
then,  looking  up  at  Mr.  Manners,  exclaimed, 
"  Were  Britain  to  lead  in  this  matter,  what  a 
post  of  honor  it  would  occupy  in  the  world !" 

"  It  would,  no  doubt,"  continued  Mr.  Man 
ners;  "  but  some  of  our  so-called  great  states 
men  are  so  wedded  to  their  prejudices  that  it 
will  be  difficult  to  move  them  in  a  new  direc 
tion.  I  am  aware  that  difficulties  exist  which 
may  be  urged  against  bringing  such  a  system 
to  a  prac'ical  issue  ;  but  those  difficulties  are 
more  imaginary  than  real.  Timid  politicians 
may  probably  elaborate  as  to  the  expense, 
without  making  a  just  estimate  of  the  great 
advantages  to  be  gained  ;  they  may  draw  a 
line  of  distinction  between  the  country  and 
the  people,  and  while  heedless  and  extravagant 
in  upholding  the  honor  of  the  one,  may  be 
still  almost  indifferent  as  to  the  poverty  and 
degradation  of  the  other.  They  may  con 
tinue  to  take  a  wrong  idea  of  what  is  right — 
just  as  false  notions  are  still  entertained  as  to 
what  is  virtue  or  what  is  crime.  However, 
until  a  full  measure  of  justice  is  meted  out  to 
all,  until  there  is  a  full  restoration  of  human 
rights,  it  should  be  tlie  great  duty  of  the 
nation  to  make  suitable  provision  for  all  of  its 
people  in  actual  need,  sickness,  or  distress, 
and  for  the  children  of  such,  until  they  are 
educated  and  able  to  do  for  themselves.  Those 
who  are  willing  to  labor,  but  who  can  find  no 
employment,  should  not  be  left  a  prey  to  hun 
ger.  If  the  state  continues  to  sanction  and 
uphold  an  unfair  distribution  of  land,  it  should 
either  provide  work  or  food  for  those  who 
have  no  land  to  cultivate.  And  next  to  a 
security  from  degrading  poverty,  there  should 
be  a  free  education  for  all. 

"  Pauperism  is  a  disgrace,  a  pestilence  which 
should  be  stamped  out  were  it  to  take  the 
crown  jewels  or  national  treasures  to  find 
food,  or  had  every  church  in  the  kingdom  to 
be  opened  and  used  as  a  shelter  for  the  home 
less.  No  nation  can  claim  to  be  truly  great 
while  thousands  of  its  people  are  obliged  to 
go  supperless  to  bed.  Governments  must  be 
come  more  paternal,  and  not  remain  as  some, 


178 


EXETER    HALL. 


like  the  shadow  of  despotism  upon  the  land. 
Advanced  ideas  have  had  their  effect  upon 
legislation,  and  the  conservatism  and  exclusive- 
ness  of  the  past  will  no  longer  be  tolerated. 
And,  kind  friends,  hoping  on,  may  we  live  to 
witness  the  fraternity  of  nations,  and  may  we 
see  the  priest  and  the  soldier,  who  have  kept 
them  so  long  divided,  obliged  to  turn  to  occu 
pations  more  in  the  interest  of  humanity." 

This  was  Martin  Mannors's  prayer  ;  he  held 
out  his  hand  and  looked  upward  as  he  spoke, 
there  was  a  short  pause,  and  then,  as  if  with 
one  voice,  they  all  exclaimed,  Amen. 

In  due  time,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Capel  returned, 
to  the  great  joy  of  Mrs.  Mannors,  and  to 
the  thorough  disgust  of  the  aspiring  Mr. 
Bross,  who,  regretting  having  ever  entertained 
a  favorable  opinion  of  any  person  known  to  be 
skeptical,  had  rejoined  the  church  and  Sunday- 
school  and  commenced  a  redistribution  of 
tracts.  The  industrious  Hannah,  in  the  fullness 
of  a  happy  spirit,  grew  more  fascinated  with 
John  Bunyan  ;  but  Robert  hopes  to  be  able  to 
alienate  her  affections  to  some  extent  from 
that  dreaming  pillar  of  orthodoxy  and  per 
haps  to  legally  monopolize  the  greater  share 
of  them  himself.  Father  Tom  had  to  leave 
for  Ireland,  but  engaged  to  return  in  a  short 
time  and  embark  with  his  friend  Capel — who 
with  his  wife  had  already  become  active  Spiritu 
alists — in  the  publication  of  a  paper  intended 
to  advocate  human  rights  and  to  expose  popu 
lar  superstition  and  priestly  fraud.  Samuel 


Styles,  who  was  a  great  favorite  among  the  Sec 
ularists  and  Spiritualists  of  London,  was  honor 
ed  by  them  with  a  public  dinner  at  the  Red 
Lion,  and  soon  afterward  took  passage  for  New- 
York,  bearing  to  the  liberal  bodies  of  that  city 
the  fraternal  greeting  of  their  brethren  in  Eng 
land.  He  promised,  however,  to  pay  Hamp- 
stead  another  visit  within  a  year,  provided 
Mr.  Mannors  would,  in  the  mean  time,  cross 
the  Atlantic  and  hail  the  friends  of  free 
thought  in  America.  This  proposal  is  likely 
to  be  favorably  entertained,  and  Martin  Man 
nors  may  expect  an  enthusiastic  reception. 

How  long  still  is  the  human  mind  to  re 
main  in  the  bonds  of  superstition  ?  How  long 
is  the  great  delusion  to  continue  1  Shall  men 
learn  hatred  through  nationality  and  religion, 
and  shall  Christian  priests  pursue  their  syste 
matic  extortion  and  maintain  their  mischiev 
ous  rule  for  yet  another  century  ?  Shall  annual 
meetings  continue  to  be  sustained  in  order  to 
promote  the  circulation  of  that  dreary  volume 
of  "  inspiration,"  and  shall  cunning  words  and 
mystic  threats  drain  further  millions  from  the 
credulous?  It  may  be  so  for  a  time ;  but  there 
are  even  now  hopeful  signs  of  a  rescue.  After 
a  trial  of  over  eighteen  hundred  years,  Chris 
tianity  has  so  far  failed  in  its  mission.  The 
triumph  'of  reason  and  humanity  must  be  ac 
complished,  and  there  are  those  now  living 
who  may  witness  their  ascendency  and  cele 
brate  their  union  and  installation  as  the  great 
ruling  guide  and  power  of  EXETER  HALT.. 


APPENDIX. 


NOTE  A. 

IN  Puritan  Massachusetts,  during  the  period  which 
Cotton  Mather  called  the  "golden  age''  of  the  Pil 
grims,  it  was  enacted  with  regard  to  heretical  books  : 

"  It  is  ordered  that  all  and  every  one  of  the  inhabi 
tants  of  this  jurisdiction  that  have  any  books  in  their 
custody  that  go  under  the  names  of  John  Beeves  and 
Lodowick  Muggleton,  (who  pretend  themselves  to  be 
the  last  two  witnesses,)  and  shall  not  bring  or  send  in 
all  such  books  to  the  next  magistrate,  shall  forfeit  £10, 
and  the  books  shall  be  burnt  in  the  market-place  at 
Boston,  on  next  lecture  day,  by  the  common  execu 
tioner." 

And  respecting  infidels  and  skeptics  : 

"  Any  one  denying  the  Scripture  to  be  the  word  of 
God  shall  pay  not  exceeding  £50,  and  be  severely 
whipped  not  exceeding  40  strokes,  unless  he  publicly 
recant,  in  which  case  he  shall  not  pay  above  £10,  or  be 
whipped  in  case  he  pay  not  the  fine.  And  if  the  said 
offender  after  his  recantation,  sentence,  pr  execution, 
shall  the  second  time  publish,  and  obstinately  and  per 
tinaciously  maintain,  the  said  wicked  opinion,  he  shall 
be  banished  or  put  to  DEATH,  as  the  court  shall  judge." 

PURITANISM. 

It  is  recorded  in  the  early  history  of  the  Puritans  of 
New-England  that — 

•'  The  Quakers  were  whipped,  branded,  had  their 
ears  cut  off,  their  tongues  bored  with  hot  irons,  and 
were  banished  upon  the  pain  of  death  in  case  of  their 
return,  and  actually  executed  on  the  gallows." 

It  is  also  recorded  in  the  same  history : 

"  The  practice  of  selling  the  natives  of  North-Ameri 
ca  into  foreign  bondage  continued  for  two  centuries. 
The  articles  of  the  early  New-England  Confederacy 
class  persons  among  the  spoils  of  war.  A  scanty  rem 
nant  of  the  Pequod  tribe  in  Connecticut,  the  captives 
treacherously  made  by  Waldron  in  New-Hampshire, 
the  harmless  fragments  of  the  tribe  of  Annamon,  the 
orphan  offspring  of  King  Philip  himself,  were  all 
doomed  to  the  same  hard  destiny  of  perpetual  bon 
dage." 

The  same  history  also  says  : 

"  Where  are  now  the  numerous  and  flourishing 
tribes  of  Indians  which  once  peopled  New-England  ? 
Where  are  the  Narragansetts,  the  Pequods,  the  Pokano- 
kets,  the  Mohegans,  and  the  Mohawks,  to  say  nothing 
of  other  tribes  ?  All  have  disappeared  from  the  face 
of  the  earth,  thanks  to  the  cold-blooded  policy  and 
heartless  cruelty  of  the  Puritans  !  They  all  vanished 
at  the  first  dawn  of  Puritan  civilization  1  First  over 
reached  in  trade  by  the  cunning  Yankees,  then  hem 
med  up  within  restricted  territories,  then  goaded  into 
war,  and  then  exterminated  with  five  and  sword.  .  . 

"  The  Pokanokets  were  the  first  tribe  to  shelter  the 
Pilgrims  after  their  landing  on  Plymouth  Rock,  and 
they  were  the  first  to  fall  victims  to  their  insidious  and 
ungrateful  policy." 

It  is  further  recorded  in  the  same  history: 

"  At  the  two  sessions  of  the  court  in  September, 
1693,  fourteen  women  and  one  man  were  sentenced  to 
death  on  charge  of  witchcraft  One  oli  man  of  eighty 
refused  to  plead,  and  by  that  horrible  decree  of  the 
common  law  was  pressed  to  death. 

'•  Although  it  was  evident  that  confession  was  the 
only  safety" in  most  cases,  some  few  had  courage  to  re- 
iract  their  confessions ;  some  eight  of  them  were  sent 
to  execution.  Twenty  persons  had  already  been  put 
to  death,  eight  more  were  under  sentence,  the  jails 
were  full  of  prisoners,  and  new  accusations  were  made 
every  day." 


Among  the  laws  recorded  in  the  early  history  of 
New-England,  were  the  following  provisions  : 

"  No  one  shall  travel,  cook  victuals,  make  beds, 
sweep  house,  cut  hair,  or  shave  on  the  Sabbath-day." 

"If  any  man  shall  kiss  his  wife,  or  wife  her  hus 
band,  on  the  Lord's  day,  the  party  in  fault  shall  bo 
punished  at  the  discretion  of  the  coqrt  of  magistrates." 

"N>  woman  shall  kiss  her  child  on  the  Sabbath  or 
fasting-day." 

To  these  provisions  of  the  law  the  historian  appends 
the  following  note : 

"  A  gentleman,  after  an  absence  of  some  months, 
reached  home  on  the  Sabbath,  and.  meeting  his  wife  at 
the  door,  kissed  her  with  an  appetite,  and,  for  his  te 
merity  in  violating  the  law,  the  next  day  was  arraigned 
before  the  court  and  fined  for  so  palpable  a  breach  of 
the  law  on  the  Lord's  day." 


NOTE  B. 

THE  following  report  of  the  proceedings  of  a  Bible 
Society  meeting,  held  in  December.  18(53,  at  the  city  of 
Hamilton,  in  the  Province  of  Upper  Canada,  speaks  for 
itself,  and  shows  that  little,  if  indeed  any.  exaggera 
tion  has  been  used  in  the  narrative  of  the  Bible-meet 
ing  at  Hampstead.  Were  it  not  for  the  reliable  ac 
count  of  the  one,  the  other  would  be  asserted  a  libel 
against  Christian  unity,  and  what  strong  language 
might  be  used  by  ''  reverend  gentlemen"  and  pious 
hearers  against  its  reckless  author. 

HAMILTON  BIBLE  SOCIETY  MEETING. 

IT  ENDS  IN  A  FREE  FIGHT. 

(From  the  Hamilton  Spectator.) 

In  accordance  with  the  circular  issued  by  Edward 
Jackson.  Esq.,  one  of  the  Vice-Presidents  of  the  Ham 
ilton  Branch  Bible  Society,  a  meeting  of  the  members 
was  held  in  the  Mechanics'  Hall  yesterday  evening. 
The  public  were  also  admitted,  but  the  front  seats 
were  reserved  for  the  members,  so  as  to  distinguish 
them  from  the  rest  of  the  audience.  There  were  from 
a  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  members  present, 
and  about  four  hundred  of  the  general  public. 

On  the  platform,  to  the  right  of  the  chair,  were  the 
Rev.  Messrs.  Burnet,  Pullar,  Cheetham.  and  Irvine ; 
and  Messrs.  C.  D.  Reid,  Wilson  Kennedy,  and  A.  Mil- 
roy  ;  on  the  left  were  the  Rev.  Messrs  Ormiston,  Rice, 
and  Inglis.  Mr.  Sheriff  Thomas,  and  Messrs.  E.  Jack 
son  and  James  Watson. 

Shortly  after  seven  o'clock,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Burnet 
rose  and  said  that,  as  it  was  now  past  the  time  at 
which  the  meeting  was  called,  he  would  move  that  Mr. 
A.  Milroy  take  the  chair. 

Mr.  Kennedy  seconded  the  motion. 

Mr.  Sheriff  Thomas  said  he  supposed  the  object  of 
the  motion  was  to  test  the  feeling  of  the  meeting,  but 
decorum  dictated  that,  in  the  absence  of  the  President, 
the  vice-president  should  take  the  chair.  He  would 
therefore  move,  in  amendment,  that  Edward  Jackson, 
Esq.,  be  chairman. 

Rev.  Dr.  Ormiston  said  It  was  unnecessary  to  say  one 
word  in  favor  of  the  propriety  of  the  course  proposed 
by  the  sheriff.  He  seconded  the  amendment. 

The  sheriff  then  put  the  amendment  to  the  meet 
ing,  and  declared  it  carried  amidst  cheers  and  hisses. 

Mr.  Jackson  came  forward  and  took  the  chair. 

Mr.  C.  D.  Reid  rose,  and  was  received  with  loud  cries 
of  "Chair!  chair  1"  He  attempted  to  apeak,  but  HO 


180 


APPENDIX. 


great  was  the  uproar  that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  ' 
him.    All  that  reached  us  was,  "  I  protest  against  Mr. 
Jackson  taking  the  chair." 

Rev.  Mr.  Biirnet  iiext  took  the  stand,  and  was 
greeted  in  a  similar  manner.  He  said,  "  I  have  just 
one  word  of  explanation."  (Uproar,  which  continued 
for  some  time.) 

Rev.  Dr.  Onniston  tried  to  say  something,  but  was 
not  permitted  to  be  heard. 

Rev.  Mr.  Kurnet  continued,  amidst  interruptions, 
"  As  mover  of  the  motion.  1  am  entitled  to  one  word 
of  explanation.  This  meeting  lias  been  called  by  Mr. 
Jackson,  and  it  did  seem  to  Kim  proper  that  the  one 
calling  it  should  take  the  chair. 

The  chairman  said  he  had  been  placed  in  not  a  very 
pleasant  position,  and  he  would  need  all  their  sympa 
thy  and  forbearance.  They  had  assembled  to  hold  a 
meeting  of  the  Bible  Society,  and  tbey  ought  to  re 
spect  the  principles  of  the  Bible.  Before  proceeding 
to  the  business  of  the  evening,  he  would  request  Rev. 
Dr.  Ormlatoo  to  implore  the  divine  blessing. 

Rev.  Dr.  Ormiston  offered  up  prayer. 

The  chairman  said  he  would  say  a  few  words  on  the 
occasion  of  their  being  called  together.  It  had  been 
the  custom  for  the  last  twenty-five  years  to  arrange 
the  business  of  the  annual  meeting  in  committee. 
This  year  they  had  failed  to  do  so,  in  consequence  of 
a  difference  regarding  the  appointment  of  certain  offi 
cers.  The  minority  of  the  committee  determined  on 
carrying  the  matter  to  the  annual  meeting,  and  to 
that  course  he  attributed  all  the  subsequent  inharmo 
nious  proceedings.  He  was  persuaded  that  Exeter 
Hall  would  not  tolerate  an  amendment  at  an  annual 
meeting,  for  there  all  the  business  was  arranged  in 
committee.  However,  at  their  annual  meeting,  after 
the  list  of  officers  had  been  proposed  and  an  amend 
ment  offered,  it  was  thought,  by  some  that  they  could 
not  arrive  at  a  just  conclusion,  it  being  a  mixed  meet 
ing,  and  a  resolution  was  therefore  passed  adjourning 
the  election  of  officers  to  a  meeting  of  the  members  of 
the  society,  to  be  called  by  circular  a  fortnight  after 
ward.  The  circular  was  issued,  but  on  account  of  ap 
pearances,  to  which  he  would  not  now  allude,  it  was 
thought  proper  to  postpone  it  indefinitely.  The  pre 
sent  meeting  was  based  on  that  postponement,  and 
had  all  the  powers  of  the  annual  meeting.  They 
could  propose  amendments  to  the  constitution,  (and  he 
believed  some  gentlemen  intended  doing  so,)  elect  of 
ficers,  or  dissolve  the  society  if  they  pleased.  He 
woulo  now  call  on  the  Rev.  Mr.  Inglis  to  address  the 
meeting. 

Rev.  Ttfr.  Cheetham  started  to  his  feet,  holding  a  pa 
per  in  his  hand,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Inglis  also  rose. 

Then  commenced  a  furious  uproar,  which  continued 
without  cessation  until  the  breaking  up  of  the  meet 
ing.  Cries  of  "  Cheetham,  Cheetham  1"  "Inglis,  In 
glis  !"  alternated,  and  neither  speaker  was  allowed  a 
Bearing. 

Mr.  Cheetham  was  the  first  to  make  the  attempt, 
but  was  met  by  so  great  a  noise  that  it  was  useless  to 
persist. 

Mr.  Inglis— Mr.  Chairman  and  friends — (cheers  and 
hisses.) 

Mr.  Cheetham — I  move  that,  as  this  meeting — (up 
roar.) 

The  chairman  rose  and  said  that  he  decided  Mr. 
Cheetham  to  be  out  of  order. 

Mr.  Cheetham  again  tried  to  speak,  but  with  a  simi 
lar  result  as  previous  attempts. 

Mr.  Inglis— Will  this  meeting  allow  me  just  one 
moment  t  ("  No,  no,"  and  continued  uproar.) 

Mr.  Cheetham— Just  one  moment.  (Laughter  and 
hisses  ) 

Tim  chairman,  having  obtained  a  hearing,  read  a 
lettei  from  John  Young,  Esq.,  requesting  that  his 
name  be  withdrawn  from  the  liflt  of  vice-presidents, 
as  he  was  disinclined  to  continue  associated,  even  in 
name,  with  a  society,  the  committee  of  which  acted 
in  such  a  disgraceful  manner. 

Mr.  Inglis  and  Mr.  Cheetham  again  attempted  to 
address  the  meeting,  but  all  attempts  were  In  vain, 
for  the  hooting  and  yelling  was  at  once  commenced 
when  either  of  them  opened  his  mouth. 

Mr.  James  Mclntyre  rose  in  the  body  of  the  hall,  and 
inquired  of  the  chairman  who  had  the  right  to  the 
floor. 

The  Chairman— Mr.  Inglis. 

Mr.  Chcotham— I  have  the  right;  and  I  intend  to 
have  that  right.  (Cheers  and  hisses.) 

Mr.  Coombs  said  he  had  come  to  the  meeting,  as  he 
nad  no  doubt  many  others  had,  to  see  fair  play.  The 
first  one  on  the  floor  had  the  right  to  speak,  and  as 
Mr.  Chfotham  was  the  first,  if  the  other  had  any  sense 
of  propriety,  he  would  sit  down.  (Cheers.) 


Mr.  Cheetham— Allow  me  just  one  moment.  (Cries 
of  "  Shut  up  1"  "  Go  on  !"  etc.) 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  Mr.  Hugh  McMa- 
hon,  amidst  fond  cheering,  went  upon  the  platform, 
and  took  a  seat  behind  the  chairman,  but  higher  up. 

Mr.  Sergeant-Major  Brown,  seconded  by  W.  Powis, 
Esq.,  moved  that  the  meeting  adjourn  sine  die. 

The  chairman  said  it  was  of  no  use  for  any  one  to 
occupy  the  chair  when  no  respect  was  paid  to  it.  As 
he  despaired  of  restoring  order,  he  would  declare  the 
meeting  dissolved.  (Loud  cheers.) 

We  may  state  that  the  motion  Mr.  Cheetham  was 
desirous  of  moving  read  as  follows :  "  That,  as  this 
meeting  is  wholly  illegal,  we  adjourn." 

Notwithstanding  the  declaration  of  the  dissolution 
of  the  meeting,  the  crowd  still  lingered  in  the  hall,  as 
if  expecting  something  else  to  occur,  and  their  expec 
tations  were  not  long  ungratified.  A  swaying  to  and 
fro  of  a  knot  of  persons  in  the  centre  of  'the  hall  at 
tracted  our  attention,  and  on  proceeding  thither,  we 
found  Hugh  McMahou  and  a  Mr.  King  struggling  for 
the  possession  of  a  walking-stick.  The  origin  of  the 
disturbance,  as  near  as  we  could  ascertain,  was  as 
follows  :  McMahon  wtnt  up  to  Mr.  James  Walker, 
who  had  the  books  of  the  society  under  his  arm.  and 
took  hold  of  them.  Mr.  King  went  in  between  them, 
and  pushed  away  McMahon,  Mr.  Walker  making  his 
escape  in  the  mean  time.  McMahou  seized  hold  of 
King's  stick,  one  or  two  others  joined  in,  and  soon 
there  was  quite  a  disturbance,  but  it  would  doubtless 
soon  have  been  quelled  had  it  not  been  for  the  intro 
duction  of  another  element.  Some  five  or  six  Irish 
men  (and  Roman  Catholics,  we  believe)  armed  with 
shillelahs,  dashed  into  the  crowd  with  wild  whoops 
and  yells,  and  laid  about  with  their  sticks  in  the  most 
promiscuous  manner,  the  loader  crying  out,  "  Clear 
the  way  before  you,  boys  1"  The  seats  were  scat 
tered  in  all  directions-,  and  a  scene  of  the  wildest  con 
fusion  ensued.  After  a  time  the  gang  of  rowdies 
went  out  of  the  hall,  smashing  at  the  seats  with  their 
bludgeons,  and  yelling  like  savages.  The  excitement 
continued  for  some  time  after  their  disappearance  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  superintendent  prepared  to 
turn  out  the  gas  that  the  crowd  was  persuaded  to 
leave  the  hall. 

A    LATER    PIOUS    SCENE. 

"  At  a  Methodist  chapel  in  Yorkshire,  England,  on  a 
recent  Sunday,  (April,  18(i9,)  there  was  a  regular  battle 
between  the  trustees  and  Sunday-school  teachers,  who 
had  been  ordered  out  of  the  building  by  the  trustees. 
One  of  the  teachers  had  a  large  piece  bitten  oft'  hia 
thumb,  and  another  person  was  seriously  injured  by 
a  buffet  being  thrown  at  his  head  from  the  pulpit. 
Bibles  and  hymn-books  were  freely  used  in  the  fight." 
— Extractfrom  Brooklyn  Daily  Paper,  May  'id,  180'J. 


NOTE  C. 

IT  Is  well  known  that  the  clerical  defenders  of  sla 
very  in  the  Southern  States  of  the  American  Republic 
invariably  sought  to  strengthen  their  position  by  an 
appeal  to  Holy  Scripture,  as  fully  authorizing  the  es 
tablishment  and  propriety  of  *luwy.  Independent, 
however,  of  the  sanction  deduced  from  the  Bible,  it 
also  seems  that  they  could  see  "God's  providential 
care"  manifested  on  behalf  of  the  inhuman  system. 
The  pious  Bishop  Elliott,  of  Savannah,  Georgia,  in  a 
thanksgiving  sermon,  thus  alluded  to  slavery.  He  said : 

"  It  is  very  curious  and  very  striking  in  this  connec 
tion  to  trace  out  the  history  of  slavery  in  this  country, 
and  to  observe  God's  providential  care  over  it  ever 
since  its  introduction.  African  slavery  had  its  origin 
in  this  country  in  an  act  of  mercy,  to  save  the  Indian 
from  a  toil  which  was  destroying  him ;  but  while  the 
Indian  has  perished,  the  substitute  who  was  brought 
to  die  in  his  place  has  lived,  prospered,  and  multiplied. 
Behold  the  providential  interposition  1  Then,  when 
the  slave-trade  was  destroyed,  the  inability  any  longer 
to  obtain  slaves  through  importation  forced  upon  mas 
ters  in  these  States  a  greater  attention  to  the  comforts 
and  morals  of  their  slaves.  The  family  relation  was 
fostered,  the  marriage  tie  grew  in  importance,  and  thu 
800,0':0  slaves  who  inhabited  these  States  at  the  closing 
of  our  ports  in  1808  have,  in  the  short  space  of  fifty 
years,  grown  into  four  millions." 

How  widely  different  have  been  the  conclusions 
drawn  by  Northern  and  other  Christian  teachers  from 
the  same  inspired  word  respecting  slavery ;  and  how 
plainly  they  can  now  trace  the  finger  of  Providence  in 
its  total  abolition  1  Yet,  strange  to  say,  the  Americac 
Religious  Tract  Society,  during  the  existence  of  slaver) 
In  the  South,  never  permitted  the  publication  of  anj 


APPENDIX. 


181 


thing  reflecting  upon  lhat  vile  oppression ;  and,  in  its 
rcpiiblications,  generally  expunged  all  that  had  been 
written  against  slavery  by  others  J 

Slavery  ha8  caused  the  greatest  disunion  among 
Christian  ministers  as  well  as  among  Christian  people. 
Since  the  close  of  the  American  rebellion,  a  proposition 
for  reunion  among  Northern  and  Southern  Methodists 
was  promptly  rejected,  and  the  organ  ot"  the  latter 
body,  the  Episcopal  M<-//n»/i*t,  the  leading  Southern 
journal  of  that  denomination,  published  at  Richmond, 
made  the  following  remarks  on  the  subject : 

"A  formal  reunion  with  Northern  Methodism  is  to 
be  deprecated  as  the  most  intolerable  calamity  that 
c-oiild  befall  our  Southern  Zion.  To  consent  to  it  on 
the  terms  suggested,  we  must  abjure  our  principles, 
sacrifice  our  position  of  usefulness,  consign  the  me 
mory  of  our  brethren  and  fathers  to  infamy,  pronounce 
the  sentence  of  self-condemnation  upon  our  ^yhple 
communion,  and  accept  a  feature  in  the  moral  discipline 
of  a  dominant  Church  which  dooms  to  death  and  dam 
nation  all  who  have  Ijeen  connected  with  what  it  deno 
minates  'the  great  evil' — 'the  detested  sin  of  slavery.'  " 

How  '-kindly  affectionate"  are  sutli  exhibitions 
among  the  divinely  enlightened  1 


NOTE  D. 

THE  following  extract  from  that  greatly  admired 
work,  liicrtf-i's  Saint"''  Rest,  (unabridged,)  will  give  a 
fair  idea  of  the  revolting  orthodox  opinion  concerning 
the  vengeance  of  God  : 

"Your  torments  shall  be  universal.  The  soul  and 
the  body  shall  each  have  its  torments.  The  guilt  of 
their  sins  will  be  to  damned  souls  like  tinder  to  gnu- 
powder — to  make  the  flames  of  hell  take  hold  of  them 
with  fury.  The  eyes  shall  be  tortured  with  sights  of 
horror  and  hosts  of  devils  and  damned  souls.  The 
ear  shall  be  tortured  with  the  bowlings  and  curses  of 
tneir  companions  in  torment  Their  smell  shall  be 
tortured  with  the  fumes  of  brimstone,  and  the  liquid 
mass  of  eternal  (ire  shall  prey  on  every  part.  No  drop 
of  water  shall  be  allowed  to  cool  their  tongues ;  no 
moment's  respite  permitted  to  relieve  their  agonies." 

What  a  hideous  picture  !  And  yet  poor  Baxter  be 
lieved  his  God  to  be  merciful  and  gracious — "  Whose 
mercy  endureth  forever  1" 

A  terrific  "  Sight  of  Hell,"  from  a  Catholic  point  of 
view,  will  further  illustrate  the  fearful  teachings  of 
religion : 

"HELL  DEPICTED  TOR  THE  YOUNG. 

"At  present,  (says  the  Pall  Matt  Gazette,}  when  there 
is  so  much  discussion  about  what  all  children  should 
be  taught,  it  is  useful  to  know  what  some  children  are 
taught.  We  have  before  us  the  tentli  of  a  series  of 
books  for  children  and  young  persons,'  composed 
Dy  the  Rev.  J.  Furniss,  C.S.S.R.,  and  published  by 
authority,  for  it  is  stamped  'jjf.nnixxu  x//i>eriorum.' 
Its  title  is  The  Sif/M  of  Hell,  and  its  contents  are  quite 
as  startling  as  the  title.  The  children  who  are  in 
structed  out  of  this  work  will  learn,  '  It  seems  likely 
that  hell  is  in  the  middle  of  the  earth :'  and  the  Rev. 
J.  Furniss  adds  :  '  We  know  how  far  it  is  to  the  middle 
of  the  earth.  It  is  just  four  thousand  miles.  So  if 
hell  is  in  the  middle  of  the  earth,  it  is  four  thousand 
miles  to  the  horrible  prison  of  hell.'  Down  in  this 
place  is  a  terrific  noise.  The  children  are  asked  to 
:  listen  to  the  tremendous,  the  horrible  uproar  of  mil 
lions  and  millions  and  millions  of  tormented  creatures, 
mad  with  the  fury  of  hell.  Oh  1  the  screams  of  fear, 
the  groanings  of  horror,  the  yells  of  rage,  the  cries  of 
pain,  the  shouts  of  agony,  the  shrieks  of  despair  from 
millions  on  miljions !  There  you  hear  them  roaring 
like  lions,  hissing  like  serpents,  howling  like  dogs, 
and  wailing  like  dragons.  There  you  hear  the  gnash 
ing  of  teetli  and  the  fearful  blasphemies  of  the  devils. 
Above  all,  you  hear  the  roaring  of  the  thunders  of 
God's  anger,  which  shakes  hell  to  its  foundations. 
But  there  is  another  sound.  There  is  in  hell  a  sound 
like  that  of  many  waters.  It  is  as  if  all  the  rivers  and 
oceans  of  the  world  were  pouring  themselves  with  a 
great  splash  down  on  the  floor  of  hell.  Is  it,  then, 
really  the  sound  of  waters  ?  It  is.  Are  the  rivers  and 
oceans  of  the  earth  pouring  themselves  into  hell  ?  No. 
What  is  it,  then  ?  It  is  the  sound  of  oceans  of  tears 
running  down  from  countless  millions  of  eyes.  They 
cry  forever  and  ever.  They  cry  because  the  sulphur 
ous  smoke  torments  their  eyes.  They  cry  because 
they  are  in  darkness.  They  cry  because  they  have 
lost  the  beautiful  heaven.  They  cry  because  the  sharp 
fire  burns  them.  Little  child,  it  is  better  to  cry  one 
tear  of  repentance  now  than  to  cry  millions  of  tears  in 


hell.'  It  is  hardly  heedful  to  follow  the  Rev.  J.  Fur 
niss  through  all  his  ghastly  pictures.  Tl.t  foregoing 
passage  is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  style,  and  the  sub 
stance  of  his  remarks  is  not  so  attractive  as  to  induce 
us  to  quote  at  great  length.  We  can  not,  however, 
withhold  the  following  picture  of  what  is  to  be  wit 
nessed  in  the  third  dungeon — that  is,  in  the  lowest 
depths  of  hell .  '  The  roof  is  red  hot ;  the  walls  are  red- 
hot  :  the  floor  is  like  a  thick  sheet  of  red-hot  iron. 
See,  on  the  middle  of  that  red-hot  iron  floor  stands  a 
girl.  She  looks  about  sixteen  years  old.  She  has  nei 
ther  shoes  nor  stockings  on  her  feet.  The  door  of 
this  room  has  never  been  opened  before  since  she  first 
set  her  foot  on  the  red-hot  floor.  Now  she  sees  that 
the  door  is  opening.  She  rushes  forward.  She  has 
gone  down  on  her  knees  on  the  red-hot  floor.  Listen  ! 
she  speaks.  She  says,  "  I  have  been  standing  with  my 
bare  feet  on  this  red-hot  floor  for  years.  Day  and 
night  my  only  standing-place  has  been  this  red-hot 
floor.  Sleep  never  came  on  me  for  a  moment  that  I 
might  forget  this  horrible,  burning  floor."  "  Look."  she 
says,  "  at  my  burnt  and  bleeding  feet.  Let  me  go  off 
this  burning  floor  for  one  moment,  only  for  a  single, 
short  moment.  Oh !  that  in  this  endless  eternity  of 
years  I  might  forget  the  pain  only  for  one  single  mo 
ment."  The  devil  answers  her  question:  "Do  you 
ask."  he  says,  "for  a  moment, for  one  moment,  to  for 
get  your  pain  ?  No,  not  for  one  single  moment  during 
the  never-ending  eternity  of  years  shall  you  ever  leave 
this  red  hot  floor."  "  Is  it  so  ?"  the  girl  says,  with  a 
sigh  that  seems  to  break  her  heart ;  "  then,  at  least  .let 
somebody  go  to  my  little  brothers  and  sisters,  who  are 
alive,  and  fell  them  not  to  do  the  bad  things  which  I  did, 
so  that  they  will  never  have  to  come  and  stand  on  the 
red-hot  floor"  The  devil  answers  her  again,  "Your 
little  brothers  and  sisters  have  the  priests  to  tell  them 
these  things.  If  they  will  not  listen  to  the  priests, 
neither  would  they  listen  even  if  somebody  should  go 
to  them  from  the  dead.'"  The  concluding  sentence 
proves  that  the  '  mocking  fiend '  can  twist  Set  ipture  to 
his  own  ends.  It  is  clear,  also,  that  the  Rev.  J.  Fur 
niss  has  no  scruple  in  accepting  the  devil's  advocacy 
of  'the  priests  '  It  is  permitted  to  the  upholders  of 
any  creed  to  spread  it  abroad  without  opposition ;  but 
those  who  use  such  questionable  methods  as  the  Rev. 
J.  Furniss  deserve  censure  even  while  they  enjoy  tole 
ration.  Lest  it  be  supposed  that  we  have  selected  an 
obsolete  work  for  comment,  we  may  add  that  the  copy 
before  us  was  published  in  1864.  On  the  cover  its 
author  is  styled  'Father'  Furniss.  Were  he  really  a 
father,  he  would  never  have  penned  such  a  work,  nor 
would  he  have  enjoined  on  others  the  duty  of  teaching 
its  doctrines  to  children." 

Religious  tract  societies  circulate  similar  pious 
blasphemies  for  the  edification  of  women  and  children, 
and  large  sums  are  regularly  expended  in  order  to  ter 
rify  the  "unconverted"  and  bring  them  to  ''belief" 
by  stereotyping  such  savage  and  inhuman  threats. 


NOTE  E. 

A  PROOF  of  the  tender  mercies  of  the  state  form  of 
Christianity  was  given  in  the  London  National  7iV- 
formn-  of  April,  1864,  about  four  weeks  previous  to 
the  great  Bible  Meeting  held  in  Exeter  Hall : 

"  It  is,  we  are  assured,  unquestionably  true  that  on 
Thursday,  the  10th  instant,  the  church-wardens  of 
Broseley  (near  Birmingham)  levied  a  distraint  on  the 
goods  of  James  Clark,  a  poor  laboring  man,  for  the 
non-payment  of  the  sum  of  one  shilling  and  threepence 
halfpenny,  which  the  said  James  Clark  was  called 
upon  to  contribute  toward  certain  expenses  which  are 
annually  incurred  by  the  congregation  that  worships 
in  Broseley  parish  church ;  the  articles  seized  in  satis, 
faction  of  this  claim  consisted  of  a  clock,  an  oak  chest, 
an  oak  cupboard,  two  tables,  seven  chairs,  a  tea-tmy. 
a  looking-glass,  a  smoothing-iron,  and  a  straw  mat- 
trass  :  and  that  Clark  has  a  family  of  six  children, 
who,  together  with  his  wife,  bed-ridden  mother,  aged 
eighty  three,  and  his  idiotic  relative,  aged  forty-three, 
constitute  the  household  which  has  been  deprived,  at 
an  inclement  season,  of  so  many  humble,  but  to  them 
valuable,  necessaries  in  order  that  the  church  of  the 
Plate  may  get  the  munificent  amount  of  fifteen  pence 
halfpenny.  Who  can  read  such  an  account  of  Christian 
charity  as  this  without  being  filled  with  the  greatest 
indignation  and  disgust  at  the  system  which  is  the 
cause  of  such  disgraceful  and  cruel  proceedings  f" 

The  same  paper,  in  its  weekly  issue  in  May,  1864, 
thus  alludes  to  a  scene  at  a  collection  for  church-rates 
in  Edinburgh : 

' '  CHURCH  RATE.  —  There  was  a  terrible  scene  in 


182 


'APPENDIX. 


Edinburgh  on  Tuesday  -week,  in  consequence  of  a  sale 
by  auction  of  goods  seized  for  minister's  money.  About 
four  thousand  people  assembled  round  the  place  of 
sale,  and  the  goods  seized  were  taken  possession  of, 
smashed,  and  burned  in  St.  Andrew's  street.  Surely 
It  is  time  the  au  thorities  of  Edinburgh  saw  the  injustice 
of  such  a  rate.  This  is  not  the  first  '  scene '  that  has 
been  produced  in  Edinburgh  through  the  enforcement 
of  what  is  justly  considered  an  unjust  tax ;  and  unless 
the  rate  is  abolished,  we  fear  it  will  not  be  the  last." 

Just  about  the  very  time  of  the  above  disturbance, 
reverend  and  princely  church  magnates  were  in  Exeter 
llall  glorying  in  the  humanity  of  Christian  civilization ; 
und,  while  begging  for  the  benighted  heathen  in  Borneo, 
were  plundering  their  own  Christian  poor  in  happy 
Britain  1 


NOTE  F. 

THE  more  ancient  cosmogony  of  the  Jews  has  every 
evidence  of  decided  Egyptian  origin.  Of  the  curious 
representations  in  one  of  the  principal  tombs  at 
Thebes,  Miss  Martineau  says : 

"  It  is  impossible  to  look  upon  these  representations 
of  the  serpent,  of  the  tree  of  life,  of  which  those  who 
ate  were  made  as  gods,  of  the  moving  spirit  of  the 
Creator  and  of  the  universally  prevalent  ideas  of  the 
original  spread  of  water,  the  separation  of  the  land 
from  the  water,  the  springing  of  vegetation,  and  the 
sudden  appearance  of  animals  on  the  new  surface,  and 
the  separation  of  the  upper  air  into  regions  of  abode, 
without  seeing  whence  was  derived  the  tirst  of  the 
two  accounts  of  the  creation  given  in  the  book  of  Ge 
nesis." 

And  again :  "  In  their  theory  of  the  formation  of  the 
world,  they  (the  Egyptians)  believed  that  when  the 
formless  void  of  eternal  matter  began  to  part  oft'  into 
realms— the  igneous  elements  ascending  and  becom 
ing  a  firmament  of  fiery  bodies,  the  heavier  portions 
sinking  and  becoming  compacted  into  earth  and  sca 
the  earth  gave  out  animals,  beasts,  and  reptiles ;  an 
idea  evidently  derived  from  their  annual  spectacle  of 
the  coming  forth  of  myriads  of  living  creatures  from 
the  soil  of  their  valley  on  the  subsidence  of  the  flood. 
When  we  remember  that  to  them  the  Nile  was  the 
sea,  and  so  called  by  them,  and  that  they  had  before 
them  the  spectacle,  which  is  seen  nowhere  else,  of 
the  springing  of  the  green  herb  after  the  separation  of 
the  waters  from  the- land,  we  shall  see  how  different 
their  view  of  the  creation  must  be  from  any  which  we 
could  naturally  form." 


NOTE  G. 

TERRIBLE  ABUSES   IX  COUNTRY  WORKHOUSES. 

From  London  Christian  World. 

THE  Lancet  has  done  good  service  in  directing  pub 
lic  attention  to  the  horrors  of  Farnham  workhouse, 
and  thereby  leading  us  to  ask  whether  the  same  scan 
dalous  neglect  may  not  be  possible  elsewhere.  With 
in  sight  of  Aldershot,  not  far  from  a  bishop's  palace, 
and  under  the  eyes  of  guardians  and  inspectors,  offi 
cial  and  amateur,  such  abominable  cruelty  has  been 
perpetrated  that  it  can  only  be  characterized  as  "  a  re 
proach  to  England,  a  scandal  and  a  curse  to  a  country 
which  calls  itself  civilized  and  Christian."  For  four 
teen  years  cruelties  almost  incredible  have  been  prac 
ticed,  although  the  visitors'  book  bears  no  evidence 
of  a  single  complaint  having  been  made.  On  the  con 
trary,  the  statement  perpetually  recurs,  '•  The  wards 
are  clean  and  every  thing  very  satisfactory."  Under 
the  guidance  of  the  Lancefs  commissioners  we  know 
what  Hampshire  visitors  mean  by  "  clean  "  and  every 
thing  being  "  very  satisfactory."  The  workhouse  pre 
mises  are  badly  constructed,  the  wards  gloomy  and 
comfortless,  and  dirty  beyond  description.  The  ac 
commodation  provided  for  old  and  young,  for  tramps, 
male  and  female,  and  especially  for  the  infirm,  is  in- 
toleiable.  The  casuals  are  locked  up  all  night  in  noi 
some  "  cages  "  without  food.  A  short  time  since,  a 
poor  woman,  on  the  verge  of  her  confinement,  was  im 
prisoned  in  this  manner,  and  when  the  porter  unlock 
ed  the  cage  next  morning,  she  was  found  to  have  been 
already  four  hours  in  the  pains  of  child-birth.  The  in 
mates  of  the  infirmary  are  also  locked  in  all  night,  and 
the  cruelty  of  this  can  only  be  rightly  imagined  when  it 
is  remembered  that  every  convenience  is  out  of  doors. 
Persons  mortally  sick  are  left  day  and  night  without 
any  nursing  attendance  except  what  they  might  or 
might  not  succeed  in  summoning  by  ringing  a  bell 
ton  a  nurse,  who  might  be  in  any  part  of  a  large  and 


straggling  building.  Fhe  nursing  staff  for  from  sixty 
to  ninety  patients  consists  of  one  paid  nurse  and  one 
male  pauper  assistant — an  invalid,  who  has  been  tay- 
ped  five  tmies  for  dropsy.  Until  Dr.  Powell,  the  me 
dical  oflicer,  who  has  waged  a  good  and  persistent 
fight  against  the  evils  of  the  place,  insisted  that  towels 
should  be  allowed,  the  inmates,  after  washing  or  bath 
ing,  dried  themselves  on  the  sheets  of  their  beds. 
The  master  of  the  workhouse,  who  has  since  been  dis 
missed  for  gross  immorality,  several  times  threatened 
the  doctor  with  personal  violence  because  he  persisted 
in  proposing  reform.  When  the  doctor  ordered  a 
'  mutton  '  dinner,  thick  lumps  of  tough  beef  and  ba 
con  were  served  out  to  poor  old  men  and  women  with 
out  a  tooth  in  their  heads.  The  children  did  iiot  fare 
any  better.  The  '  nursery  '  is  a  gloomy,  damp,  brick- 
floored  room,  with  absolutely  no  furniture  except  one 
low  wooden  bench,  on  which  seven  or  eight  little  chil 
dren  were  sitting,  in  front  of  the  fire.  They  had  r.o 
toys,  no  amusement,  and  no  education."  Such  are  a 
few  of  the  horrors  which  the  Lancet  has  laid  bare.  A 
more  deplorable  state  of  things  can  hardly  be  ima- 

fined.  The  question  is.  Are  other  country  work- 
ouses  in  a  similar  plight?  It  is  evident  we  can  no 
longer  rely  on  the  reports  of  poor-law  inspectors. 
Even  independent  visitors  appear  to  have  been  afllict- 
ed  with  blindness  in  part,  Having  begun  the  work, 
we  trust  the  Lancet  will  pursue  it  with  unflinching 
fidelity. 

THE    LONDON    POOR. 

Distress  always  reigns  in  London,  the  very  rich  and 
the  very  poor  being  close  neighbors  in  the  great 
metropolis.  The  London  Times  notices  that  at  cer 
tain  doors  of  some  of  the  districts  of  the  city  crowds 
of  men  may  be  seen  jostling,  striving,  almost  fight 
ing  each  other  for  admission ;  and  the  admission, 
when  once  secured,  is  not  to  see  a  favorite  actor  or 
hear  a  popular  preacher,  or  to  witness  a  prize-fight  or 
rat-bait,  but  to  gain  the  privilege  of  breaking  hard 
stones  in  a  cold,  muddy  yard  attached  to  the  parish 
workhouse,  for  the  reward  of  threepence  and  a  loaf 
of  bread.  "  These  men,"  it  adds,  "  are  not  clad  in  the 
usual  stone-yard  apparel ;  they  wear  g"ood  coats — rags 
are  scarcely  to  be  seen.  They  are  men  who  not  very 
long  ago  were  earning  from  $6  to  $13  weekly,  to  whom 
the  very  mention  of  the  workhouse  would  have  been 
contamination  ;  and  here  they  struggle  and  wrestle  for 
its  most  meagre  advantages."  The  Journal  referred  to 
then  makes  some  comparisons  of  the  relief  afforded 
to  the  poor.  During  the  winters  of  1865-6,  the  a-  .f- 
age  daily  number  of  laborers  in  the  Poplar  stone  .  <trd. 
attached  to  one  of  the  London  poorhouses,  was  200 ; 
but  in  the  week  ending  January  9th,  1867,  the  daily 
average  was  over  1000.  In  the  last  week  of  1806,  that 
poorhouse  gave  out-door  parochial  relief  to  4340  per 
sons,  as  compared  with  1974  in  the  last  week  of  1865. 
This  establishment  is  now  giving  relief  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  and  this  fact,  together  with  the  announce 
ment  that  nearly  all  the  funds  have  been  drawn  out  of 
the  London  savings  banks— the  working-classes  hav 
ing  been  from  four  to  six  mouths  without  regular  wa 
ges—shows  that  at  present  there  is  greater  distress  in 
London  than  has  been  known  for  a  long  time. — Ame 
rican  Paper. 


NOTE  H. 

CHRISTIANITY  is  imperious  in  its  assumptions;  it 
claims  to  be  all  that  is  truthful,  noble,  and  magnani 
mous;  it  boasts  of  its  humanity  and  of  its  moral  and 
civilizing  influence;  but  what  a  burlesque  upon  its 
pretensions  is  its  actual  history — sectarian  enmity, 
gross  intolerance,  and  bloody  and  inhuman  peraecn- 
tion.  Can  Christianity,  with  its  arrogance  and  cupid 
ity,  show  a  purer  record  than  that  exhibited  by  ancient 
paganism  ?  Christian  nations  are  preeminent  for 
their  love  of  war,  plunder,  and  devastation;  and  so 
great  is  their  mutual  distrust  that,  even  during  the  un 
certain  periods  when  there  is  no  actual  war,  the  armed 
peace  of  Europe  alone  costs,  as  has  been  stated,  about 
£300.000,000  sterling  ($1,500,000,000)  annually !  Can 
Christian  people  claim  to  be  more  upright,  more  hon- 
orable,and  more  exemplary  than  Buddhists,  Mohamme 
dans,  or  Parsees?  In  numerous  instances  the  ethics 
of  China  or  Japan  might  bring  the  blush  of  shame  to 
entire  Christendom.  What  among  the  deceptive 
transactions  of  Bible-worshipers— who  boast  of  a 
purer  theology — is  still  most  common  ?  Frauds,  in 
castle  and  in  court,  in  state  affairs  and  in  church  mat 
ters  ;  frauds  in  national  intrigue,  in  diplomacy,  and  in 
naval  and  military  affairs  ;  frauds  in  senate-chambers 
and  in  law  tribunals,  in  elections  and  in  appointments ; 


APPENDIX. 


183 


frauds  by  word  and  by  oath,  in  buying  and  selling,  but  it  is  additionally  accursed  with  the  temptations 
in  giving  and  receiving ;  frauds  by  weight,  and  frauds  that  take  advantage  of  this  physical  feebleness.  Con- 
by  measure,  and  frauds" by  adulteration,  and  increasing  sidering,  then,  this  sandy-haired  composition,  this 
frauds  in  every  imaginable  shape  and  form  that  may  nervous  combustibility,  this  superabundance  of  sexual 
escape  the  penalty  of  crime  I  heat  from  a  deficiency  in  physical  exertion,  and  this 

But  it  may  be  said  that  a  majority  of  such  persons  extraordinary  exposure  to  the  wiles  of  the  wicked,  and 
are  not  true  Christians.  Well,  if  they  are  not,  let  us  the  insinuative  influences  of  unsuspicion,  the  marvel, 
go  among  the  reverend  clergy  •  they,  if  any,  are  surely  ',  nay,  the  miracle  is  not  that  so  many,  but  so  few  of  the 
of  the  right  stamp;  nearly  all  of  them  have  sworn  or  clergy  fall  into  the  sins  of  sensuality.  The  wonder 
solemnly  declared  that  they  have  been  called— moved  '  is,  not  that  so  many  yield,  but  that  so  many  stand 
by  the  "  Holy  Ghost " — to  preach  the  Gospel.  Then  firm  ! ! 

what  of  the  priests  ?  Alas !  with  all  their  spiritual  en-  "  While  we  regard  a  sudden  trip  into  sensual  sin  aa 
dowmente,  they  have  proved  to  be  but  frail  and  falli-  comparatively  the  most  excusable  of  the  obliquities 
ble  men  ;  and  though  there  are  many  excellent  persons  of  which  the  clergy  can  be  guilty,  we  certainly  advise 
among  them,  yet,  as  a  class,  in  proportion  to  their  '<  all  those  who  are  thus  guilty,  or  feel  themselves  in 
numbers,  it  may  be  said  that  they  excel  all  others  in  !  danger  of  being,  to  quit  the  pulpit  at  once  and  for- 
seusuality ;  and  so  notorious  have  they  become  in  ever.  And  let  none  go  to  the  sacred  office  who  are 
this  respect  that  one  can  scarcely  read  a  newspaper  not  strong  in  the  flesh  as  in  the  Lord,  and  let  the 
that  does  not  bear  a  record  of  their  vileness.  To  avoid  physically  feeble  who  are  in  it  leave  it,  lest  a  worse 
scanda.1,  much  is  connived  at,  and  many  of  the  clerical  fate  comes  upon  them.  Divine  grace  will  not  make 
culprits  permitted  to  escape  where  others  would  be  ;  amends  for  physical  infirmities. 

held  accountable ;  yet  so  heinous  have  been  some  of  "And  so  far  from  these  clerical  sins  of  sensuality  be 
ing  the  inexplicable  lapses  they  are  represented  to  be 
by  the  public  press  and  private  Grundys,  they  are  not 


their  crimes  that  the  law  has  had  to  take  its  course, 
and  felon  priests  are  now  paying  the  penalty  in  prisons 
and  penitentiaries,  and  even  the  scaffold  itself  has 
often  had  to  close  a  career  of  clerical  infamy.  The 
latest  case  of  the  kind  at  present  remembered  is  that 
of  the  liev.  Mr.  Hardin,  a  Methodist  minister,  who, 
for  the  sake  of  a  paramour,  murdered  his  wife  in  New- 
Jersey  a  few  years  since  and  was  hanged  for  the  crime.* 
Indeed,  of  late  so  frequent  ana  scandalous  have 
been  priestly  amours  that  the  secular  press  in  many 
places  has  been  forced  to  notice  the  fact  and  to  issue 

a  warning  to  over-pious  and  confiding  females  ;  and  in  I  fnent.  Nor  is  there  any  explanation  to  be  offered  for 
consequence  of  the  caution  thus  given  against  the  that  terrible  species  of  the  genus  sensuality,  of  which 
wiles  of  the  ordained  servants  of  the  Lord,  the  |  several  clergymen  in  this  country  recently  iiave  been 
P'//j)i(,  for  November,  1867,  a  religious  magazine,  \found  gyilft/,  and  which  shall  be  nameless  here.  Such 
makes  the  " 


only  the  least  surprising,  but  the  most  excusable  sine 
the  clergy  can  commit /  But  we  do  not  excuse,  we 
explain  them.  We  are  giving  their  comparative  and 
not  their  actual  criminality. 

"As  for  seduction,  that  is  a  crime  than  which  nouo 
is  more  heinous,  infernal,  and  damnable,  let  who 
will  commit  it.  The  man  who  is  convicted,  deserves 
every  twinge  of  the  torture  to  which  he  can  be  sub 
jected  by  the  retributive  laws  of  the  divine  govern' 


'or    November,   1867,  a  religious  magazine,  \found  guilty,  and  which .shall  be  ut 
c  following  extraordinary  comments  in  pallia-    offenses  are  very  peculiarly  odiou 


ing  exi 
tiou  of  clerical  fallibility : 

A    CURIOUS    ARGUMENT    TOR    A    RELIGIOUS  MAGAZINE. 

"  We  infer  from  what  we  hear  in  private  conversa 
tion,  and  what  we  read  in  the  public  journals,  that  the 
public  think  it  very  marvelous  that  so  many  of  the 


s  and  abhorrent  in 

view  of  tlu- fact  that  sensual  gratification  is  possible 
without  adding  more  than  one  to  the  number  of  the 
debauched. 

"Let  all  these  putrid  brethren  be  cut  off  and  put  away. 
and  let  there  be  a  vigorous  endeavor  to  lift  tue  stand 
ard  of  clerical  purity  in  the  above  as  well  as  in  every 
other  respect ;  but  let  it  also  be  remembered  that  the 


clwgy  are  wrecked  upon  the  rock  of  sensuality.  The  |  steadfastness  of  the  clergy  is  a  matter  of  amazement, 
astonishment  is  not  astonishing.  People  who  do  not  I  when  the  considerations  we  have  named  are  taken 
make  a  habit  of  thinking  will  hardly  be  thoughtful  into  the  account." 


ug  _ 

enough  lo  know  the  fact  in  reference  to  this  matter. 
The  feet  is,  there  is  no  profession,  class,  or  avocation 
so  exposed  to  or  tempted  by  the  devil  of  sensuality  as 
tlie.  ministry.  The  very  sanctity  of  their  office  is  an 
occasion  of  their  stumbling.  The  office  is  confounded 
with  its  occupant.  The  sanctity  of  the  former  is 
made  the  possession  of  the  latter.  Now,  the  office  is 
an  invulnerable  myth  ;  its  occupant  is  a  man  of  like 
passions  with  other  men.  No  temptation  is  sufficient 
to  overcome  the  other  office,  while  so  stout-faithed 
an  occupant  of  it  as  Peter  the  apostle  may  fall 
grievously  at  the  first  approach  of  the  adversary. 
Unthinking  women  may  seem  to  be  only  tempting 
the  office,  when  they  are  unwittingly  laying  snares  for 
the  occupant.  By  their  persistent  exhibition  of  con 
fidence  in  the  office,  they  are  confiding  persistently  in 
its  occupant.  And  so  it  comes  to  pass  in  this  way 
that  the  minister,  with  all  his  flesh  and  blood  about 
him,  has  the  door  of  temptation  thrown  open  to  him 
and  then  closed  behind  him.  Blind  confidence  on 
the  one  side,  and  unguarded  sociability  on  the  other, 
lead  to  equivocal  circumstances  as  to  both.  No  man 
in  the  world  has  so  few  conditions  imposed  upon 
him  at  the  threshold  of  society  as  the  clergyman. 
His  passport  to  society  is  almost  a  carte  blanche. 
Women  of  both  states  and  all  ages  are  his  com 
panions,  socially  and  professionally.  The  rules  of 
social  intercommunion  between  the  sexes  are,  in  this 
case,  virtually  suspended.  What  would  be  indiscre 
tion  with  other  men,  is  a  matter  of  course  with  him. 
He  shares  or  is  alternately  admitted  to  the  privacy  of 
the  sick-room  with  the  physician. 

"  Whenever  spiritual  advice  is  called  for,  there  he 
reigns  alone  and  unmolested.  And  he  is  a  sedentary 
man,  of  nervous,  sanguine  temperament,  and,  like  all 
men  of  this  sort  and  life,  feels  the  law  of  his  flesh 
warring  against  the  law  of  hi*  religion.  None  have 
euch  passions  as  those  of  sedentary  life.  In  propor 
tion  to  the  idleness  of  the  muscles  is  the  activity  of 
the  passions.  The  devil  tempts  the  industrious ;  idle 
men  tempt  the  devil.  The  clergy  should  give  more 
earnest  heed  to  '  muscular  Christianity.'  But  not  only 
Is  their  life  afflicted  with  deficiency  in  bodily  exercise, 

*  Between  the  years  1860  and  1862.  four  Protestant 
priests  were  hung  for  murder  in  the  United  States. 


Not  only  does  the  church  in  many  cases  try  to 
screen  the  foibles  of  its  clergy,  but  with  genuine 
craftiness  it  can  connive  at  or  mildly  reprove  the  sina 
of  certain  of  its  members  in  good  standing— that  is, 
good  paying  members. 

Neal  Dow,  during  his  recent  visit  to  England,  gave 
evidence  in  corroboration  of  this ;  in  one  of  his  lec 
tures  he  said : 

"  I  was  to  be  received  at  a  great  tea-meeting  in 
Edinburgh.  In  the  afternoon  before,  one  of  the  magis 
trates  took  me  in  his  carriage  for  a  ride  around  tliat 
ancient  town.  As  we  rode  up  the  famous  Canougate, 
he  stopped.  '  This,'  said  he  '  is  the  house  of  John 
Kuox,  very  much  as  he  left  it.  It  is  now  the  property 
of  the  church  of  the  Kev.  Mr. ,  one  ol  the  lead 
ing  Presbyterian  churches  in  this  city.  The  upper 
stories  are  occupied  as  dwellings,  and  the  ground- 
floor  as  a  low  and  vile  grog-shop,  the  rents  going  into 
the  church  treasury.1  A  little  further  on,  he  said, 
'  There  is  a  gro^-shop,  kept  by  a  son  of  an  eminent 
Scotch  doctor  of  divinity  of  this  city.  The  capital 
furnished  by  the  father,  of  whose  church  the  son  ia  a 
prominent  member.' 

"  Further  on  he  said,  '  Look  at  that  shop  ;  it  is  one 
of  the  vilest  in  Edinburgh,  and  is  kept  by  the  leading 
elder  of  the  leading  Presbyterian  church  in  the  city. 
A  little  while  ago  he  was  convicted  before  the  police 
court  and  fined  for  harboring  thieves  and  prostitutes; 
but  his  standing  in  the  church  has  not  been  compro 
mised  in  the  slightest  degree.  Shortly  after,  he  present 
ed  to  the  church  for  the  pulpit,  a  splendid  Bible  and 
hymn-book,  which  are  now  used  there.'  Many  other 
similar  places  were  pointed  out  to  me,  kept  by  church- 
members  in  good  standing,  one  of  whom  had  taken 
from  a  poor  ragged  woman,  in  exchange  for  a  pint  of 

fin,  a  pair  of  shoes  stripped  from  the  feet  of  one  ol 
er  children." 

Other  evidence  might  be  added,  but  this  from  Neal 
Dow  ought  to  be  sufficient  for  the  present.  Were  in 
fidels  to  countenance  and  profit  by  such  infamy,  what 
poisoned  shafts  the  priests  would  gladly  hurl  against 
them ;  priests  will  vilify  them  any  way ;  but,  were  it 
not  for  the  reproaches  of  infidels  and  spmtualists.  these 
abuses  might  be  more  generally  tolerated  by  the  pious ; 
and,  were  it  not  for  the  efforts  of  reasoning  skeptics, 
Britain  might  not  even  at  the  present  day  ue  able  to 


184 


APPENDIX. 


boast  of  its  temperance  organization.  The  infldel  has 
brought  reform  to  the  Christian  church ;  extirpate 
him  with  his  advanced  ideas,  and  intolerance  will  be 
followed  by  increased  hypocrisy,  and  orthodox  morals 
may  become  again  so  degenerate  that  Christian  peo 
ple  may  be  glad  to  copy  the  more  honest  and  upright 
conduct  of  pagan  nations. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Burt,  who  visited  Egypt  in  1867,  states 
that,  though  nearly  all  the  Egytian  boatmen  and  at 
tendants  along  the  Nile  were  wretchedly  poor,  and 
though  they  had  ample  opportunity  to  pilfer,  yet  he 
asserts  that  not  an  article  of  the  slightest  value  was 
ever  missed  by  himself  or  by  any  of  his  companions. 

A  writer,  giving  an  account  of  a  heathen  people 
says :  "  Take  the  Japanese  as  a  whole,  high  and  low, 
rich  and  poor,  they  are  the  best  fed,  best  clad,  best 
lodged,  least  over-worked,  and  most  genial  and  happy 
people  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Food  is  abundant 
and  cheap,  imaginary  wants  rare,  and  thus  tempta 
tions  to  crime  are  less  than  with  us,  though  the  land 
is  no  Utopia. 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  squalor  to  be  seen  in 
Japan.  In  the  houses  of  the  very  poorest,  a  Fifth 
avenue  belle  might  sit  upon  the  matted  floor -without 
Boiling  her  dress.  The  streets  are  admirably  sewered  ; 
all  offal  and  garbage  are  removed  for  manure. 

"  There  is  no  bigotry.  The  people  are  wonderfully 
open-minded.  There  is  no  hatred  of  Christianity  as 
such ;  only  it  is  feared  as  an  engine  to  cause  political 
changes." 

What  Christian  state  can  boast  of  so  much  worldly 
happiness  t 


NOTE  I. 

THE  very  dreadful  deed— the  sudden  murder  of  his 
son— which  Doctor  Buster  is  represented  to  have  com 
mitted,  is  far  exceeded  in  cruelty  by  the  deliberate 
and  fiendish  act  of  an  ordained  servant  of  the  Lord, 
the  Rev.  Joel  Lindsley,  a  Presbyterian  minister  near 
the  village  of  Medina,  m  the  State  of  New- York,  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  In  June,  1866,  this  clerical 
monster  cruelly  tortured  to  death  his  little  son — only 
three  years  old — because  the  child  would  not  say  his 
prayers !  The  fearful  account  of  the  murder  is  truly 
one  of  the  most  revolting  ever  brought  to  public  no 
tice,  as  the  following  extracts  from  American  papers 
will  sufficiently  show : 

A    REVOLTING    AND    OUTRAGEOUS    CRIME.— A    CLERGY 
MAN  WHIPS  HIS  CHILD  TO  DEATH  1 

The  Rochester  Union,  of  Thursday,  gives  the  follow 
ing  particulars  of  one  of  the  most  revolting  and  out 
rageous  crimes  we  ever  read.  It  almost  staggers  belief. 
That  a  father— a  clergyman — should  deliberately  whip 
his  little  son  to  death  for  refusing  to  say  his  prayers, 
is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  as  it  is  revolting  of 
crimes. — Boston  Sunday  Herald. 

"  We  learn  from  railroad  men  who  came  from  Medi 
na  this  morning  that  there  was  a  great  excitement 
in  that  village  arising  from  a  report  that  a  Presbyterian 
clergyman,  named  Lindsley,  residing  a  mile  south  of 
the  village,  yesterday  whipped  his  son,  three  years 
old,  so  severely  that  he  died  two  hours  afterward,  be 
cause  he  would  not  say  his  prayers.  Report  adds,  that 
the  child's  fingers  were  broken  by  the  blows  adminis 
tered.  The  report  seemed  so  monstrous  and  unnatu 
ral,  that  we  telegraphed  to  Medina  to  learu  if  it  was 
true,  and  received  an  answer  that  it  was. 

"  The  telegraph  states  that  the  minister  was  two 
hours  whipping  the  child  with  a  heavy  rod,  and  it  died 
within  the  time  stated  above.  Lindsley  had  not  been 
arrested  at  the  time  the  dispatch  was  sent,  but  we 
learn  that  an  officer  from  Albion  has  gone  to  Medina 
to  take  him  into  custody.  For  the  sake  of  common 
humanity,  we  hope  the  story  is  exaggerated,  and  it  may 
be  possible  that  it  is. 

"Since  writing  the  above,  we  have  received  by  spe 
cial  telegraph  the  statement  of  Mr.  Lindsley,  the  fath 
er  of  the  child,  made  to  a  jury  summoned  by  Coroner 
Chamberlain  :  '  On  the  18th  of  June,  the  child  disobey 
ed  his  step-mother,  and  I  commenced  correct  ing  him, 
using  a  shingle  for  the  purpose,  and  continued  to 
chastise  him  lor  more  than  two  hours,  when  the  child 
began  to  show  signs  of  debility  :  and  I  ceast-d  to  pun 
ish  him,  and  laid  him  on  a  couch  and  called  my  wife. 
When  she  saw  the  child,  she  said  he  was  dying,  and 
before  twelve  o'clock  he  was  dead.'  The  coroner's 
jury  returned  a  verdict  yesterday,  •  that  death  resulted 
from  chastisement  by  the  father.'  " 


THE    MEDINA    MONSTER! 

The  following,  from  the  Rochester  (N.  Y.)  Urdon, 
gives  further  particulars  of  the  miDister-tnonstei 
near  that  city,  who  whipped  his  child  to  cifath  for  not 
saying  his  prayers. — Boston  pa]*r. 

"  The  account  of  the  whipping  to  death  of  a  child 
three  years  old  by  its  father,  a  clergyman,  because  it 
would  not  say  its  prayers,  near  Medina,  awakened  the 
greatest  indignation  of  our  citizens  against  the  inhu 
man  father.  The  report  was  hardly  credited,  so  un 
natural  and  monstrous  was  the  crime  committed.  \Va 
blush  to  say  it,  but  the  most  sickening  and  dreadful 
part  of  the  unparalleled  horror  was  not  published. 

"Liudsley's  (that's  the  monster's  name)  statement 
before  the  coroner's  jury  was  corroborated  by  other 
witnesses  before  the  jury.  The  body  of  the  child  told 
more  plainly  and  pathetically  than  words  could  of  the 
terrible  punishment  it  had  undergone.  Several  of  its 
fingers  were  broken,  and  the  blood  had  oozed  from 
every  pore.  To  conceal  the  crime,  the  father  tied  the 
little  one's  hands  behind  its  back  and  placed  it  in  its 
coffin.  While  physicians  were  making  a  post-mortem 
examination  of  the  body,  he  sat  by,  coolly  looking  at 
the  proceedings.  After  a  while  he  spoke,  and  asKed 
them  if  they  had  not  carried  '  this  thing  about  far 
enough  ?'  The  physicians  discovered  no  disease  about 
the  child ;  it  died  solely  from  excessive  and  cruel  pun 
ishment.  The  little  one  would  have  been  three  years 
old  next  August— whipped  to  death  because  it  would 
not  say  its  prayers. 

"  We  are  told  that  Lindsley  justified  his  horrid 
work  !  He  thinks  it  was  his  duty  to  punish  the  child 
until  his  will  was  broken  and  he  obeyed.  Lindsley 
was  arrested  and  committed  to  jail  in  Albion.  It  was 
with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  the  officers  who  had 
him  in  charge  could  keep  the  citizens  of  Medina  and 
neighborhood  from  lynching  the  murderer  on  the  spot. 
Lindsley  is  a  man  about  five  feet  eight  inches  in 
height,  well  proportioned,  has  black  whiskers,  and 
dark  complexion.  He  has  the  apperaance  of  a  man 
of  violent  temper." 

A  telegram  announces  that  Rev.  Joel  Lindsley,  who 
beat  his  child  to  death,  was  released  from  custody  on 
giving  bail  in  the  sum  of  $10,000. — Journal. 

A    CLERGYMAN    CONVICTED. 

The  Rev.  Joel  Lindsley,  like  the  Rev.  Mr.  Babin,  has 
been  on  trial  charged  with  murder,  but  the  result  has 
been  less  fortunate  for  him  than  that  of  the  Aylmer 
trial  for  the  Canadian  clergyman.  Lindsley.  who  was 
tried  at  Albion,  N.  Y.,  was  accused  of  whipping  his 
little  son  to  death,  and  the  jury  finding  him  guilty  of 
manslaughter,  he  was  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned  in 
the  state  prison  for  four  years  and  a  half.  A  thrill  of 
horror  went  through  the  court-room  as  the  physicians 
testified  as  to  the  condition  of  the  child's  body  as  seen 
by  them  after  it  was  laid  in  the  coffin.  One  witness 
swore  that  the  boy  must  have  received  several  hundred 
blows ;  that  the  body  was  covered  with  black  and  blue 
marks,  the  skin  broken  in  many  places,  the  nails  of  the 
hands  and  feet  torn  up  at  the  sides,  and  even  the  soles 
of  the  feet  and  the  backs  of  the  hands  laid  bare  in  pla 
ces.  Lindsley  acknowledged  that  he  had  alternately 
beaten  and  "  reasoned  with  "  the  child  for  two  hours, 
when,  observing  a  change,  he  laid  him  on  his  bed. 
The  poor  mother  cr  ed  out,  "  Why,  Johnny's  dying  1'' 
On  this,  the  father  took  him  from  the  bed,  and  the  boy 
diod  in  his  arms.— Leader. 

THE  LINDSLKY  WHIPPING    CASE. 

This  is  a  case  of  great  peculiarity.  No  one,  taking 
a  natural  view  of  the  matter,  can  for  a  moment  sup 
pose  that  this  father  intended  to  kill  his  own  child. 
If  premeditation  is  an  ingredient  of  murder,  Lindsley 
is  not  a  murderer. 

Heretofore,  we  are  informed,  this  clergyman  has 
sustained  a  spotless  reputation,  and  was  considered  an 
inoffensive  man ;  therefore,  we  can  not  class  him  with 
those  depraved  wretches  whose  evil  deeds  are  a  terror 
to  the  community  in  which  they  live.  Nor  can  we 
suppose  he  was  so  inflamed  by  anger  toward  a  little 
child,  three  years  of  age,  that  he  deliberately  pounded 
it  to  death. 

Mr.  Lindsley  has  probably  been  a  man  of  austere 
piety — a  piety  that  Is  intolerant  to  the  opinions  of 
others  and  uncompromising  in  its  dealings  with  the 
world.  There  are  thousands  of  such  persons  in  the 
country  ;  they  are  men  of  impracticable  minds,  who 
claim  that  they  should  "do  right  though  the  heavens 
fall,"  and  they  are  unwilling  that  any  thing  should  bo 
considered  "right"  unless  they  indorse  it.  This  was 
a  peculiarity  of  the  early  settlers  of  New-England, 


APPENDIX. 


185 


who  pierced  holes  through  people's  tongues,  and 
hanged  them  on  the  gallows,  and  banished  them  from 
the  country,  all  in  the  name  of  their  austere  ortho 
doxy. 

These  peculiarities  of  religion  are  mostly  the  fault 
of  education.  Men  are  so  impressed  with  the  "duty  " 
they  owe  to  God,  that  they  commit  the  greatest  outra 
ges"  against  humanity  in  the  name  of  their  Creator. 
Such  religion  is  worse  than  no  religion  at  all. 

But  thus  has  it  been  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world,  not  only  with  the  Christian  religion,  but  in  all 
forms  of  idolatry.  How  many  victims  have  suffered 
because  of  their  intolerant  spirit ! 

This  man  who  has  killed  his  child  is  to  be  pitied  as 
well  as  condemned.^  He  is  to  be  pitied  because  he  is 
so  narrow-minded  and  full  of  bigotry  as  not  to  be  able 
to  understand  the  diviue  truths  of  the  Master  whom 
he  professes  to  serve. 

lie  is  condemned,  before  trial,  by  all  classes  of  the 
community — even  by  those  who,  some  of  them,  are  as 
bigoted  as  he  is,  and  by  disciples  of  Jesus  who  pro 
fess  charity  for  all  men.  While  we  all  must  cry  out 
against  this  frightful  cruelty,  let  us  speak  a  word 
a./:<inst  those  false  systems  of  religion  that  permit  the 
beating  of  the  life  out  of  a  tender  child. 

The  above  is  from  the  Orleans  (N.  Y.)  Republican, 
and  it  gives  as  good  a  defense  of  Lindsley  as  probably 
can  be  given.  But  it  is  nonsense  to  say  that  he  is  not 
a  "depraved  wretch,"  when  he  could  beat  a  little  child 
two  hours,  even  if  he  did  not  mean  to  kill  it.  Such 
cruelty  is  the  best  evidence  of  depravity. — Boston  pa 
per. 


NOTE  J. 

THE  persecution  and  forcible  confinement  in  an  asy 
lum  of  Doctor  Busters  wife,  on  account  of  her  liberal 
opinions,  is  not  such  a  picture  as  may  be  merely  drawn 
from  the  imagination  ;  like  other  charges  made  in  this 
•work  against  priestly  characters,  it  can  be  sustained 
even  too  well  by  actual  fact. 

The  case  of  Mrs.  E.  P.  W.  Packard,  of  the  State  of 
Illinois,  one  of  the  United  States  of  America,  affords 
a  <_rood  illustration.  She  was  the  wife  of  a  minister  of 
the  Gospel,  "in  good  standing;  "  her  religious  ideas 
were  too  liberal  for  the  cramped  orthodoxy  of  Tier 
ti^utt-d  husband ;  she  not  only  believed  in.  but  ac- 
t-.ally  taught,  Universalism;  and  for  this  alone  she  was 
harassed  and  persecuted  by  her  reverend  tyrant ;  and 
at  last  was  forcibly  imprisoned  for  a  long  time  in  an 
insane  hospital. 

The  following  letter  from  Judge  Boardman  will  ex 
plain  more  fully : 

To  ail persons  iclio  would  desire  to  give  sympathy  and  en 
couragement  to  a  most  worthy  but  persecuted  woman ; 

The  undersigned,  formerly  from  the  State  of  Ver 
mont,  now  an  old  resident  of  the  State  of  Illinois, 
would  most  respectfully  aud  fraternally  certify  and  re 
present  : 

That  he  has  been  formerly  and  for  many  years  asso 
ciated  with  the  legal  profession  in  Illinois,  and  is  well 
known  in  the  north-eastern  part  of  said  State  ;  that  in 
the  duties  of  his  profession,  and  in  the  offices  he  has 
died,  he  has  frequently  investigated,  judicially  and 
otherwise,  cases  of  insanity;  that  he  has  given  con 
siderable  attention  to  medical  jurisprudence,  and  has 
studied  some  of  the  best  authors  on  the  subject  of  in 
sanity ;  has  paid  great  attention  to  the  principles  and 
philosophy  of  mind;  aud  therefore  would  say,  with 
ail  due  modesty,  that  he  verily  believes  himself  quali 
fied  to  give  an  opinion  entitled  to  respectful  considera 
tion  ou  the  question  of  the  sanity  or  insanity  of  any 
person  with  whom  he  may  be  acquainted. 

That  he  is  acquainted  with  Mrs.  E.  P.  W.  Packard, 
and  verily  believes  he-  not  only  sane,  but  that  she  is  a 
person  of  very  superior  endowments  of  mind  and  un 
derstanding,  naturally  possessing  an  exceedingly  well- 
balanced  organization,  which  no  doubt  prevented  her 
becoming  insane  under  the  persecution,  incarceration, 
and  treatment  she  has  received ;  that  Mrs.  Packard 
has  been  the  victim  of  religious  bigotry,  purely  so, 
without  a  single  circumstance  to  alleviate  the  dark 
ness  of  the  transaction— a  case  worthy  of  the  palmiest 
days  of  the  Inquisition. 

The  question  may  be  asked.  How  this  could  happen, 
especially  in  Northern  Illinois?  To  which  I  answer: 
Tl.at  the  common  law  prevails  here  the  saint'  as  in 
other  States  where  this  law  has  not  been  modified  or 
set  aside  by  the  statute  laws,  which  gives  the  legal 
custody  of  the  wife's  person  into  the  hands  of  her 
husband  ;  and  therefore,  a  wife  can  only  be  relieved 
from  oppression,  or  even  from  imprisonment,  by  her 
husband,  by  the  legal  complaint  of  herself,  or  some 


one  In  her  behalf,  before  the  proper  judicial  anthori- 
ties.  and  a  hearing  and  decision  in  the  case,  as  was 
finally  had  in  Mrs.  Packard's  case;  she  having  been  in 
the  ftrst  place  taken  by  force,  by  her  husband,  and 
sent  to  the  insane  hospital,  without  any  opportunity 
to  make  complaint,  and  without  any  hearinir  or  Inves 
tigation.  But  how  could  the  superintendent  of  th« 
insane  hospital  be  a  party  to  so  great  a  wron^ '!  Very 
easily  answered,  without  necessarily  Impeaching  his 
honesty,  when  we  consider  that  her  alleged  insanity 
was  on  religious  subjects.  Her  husband,  a  minister 
of  good  standing  in  his  denomination,  and  the  super 
intendent,  sympathizing  with  him,  in  all  probability, 
in  religious  devotions  and  belief,  supposed,  of  course, 
that  she  was  insane.  She  was  legally  sent  to  him  by 
the  authority  of  her  husband  as  insane.  Mrs  Packard 
had  taught  doctrines  similar  to  the  Unitarians,  Uni- 
versalists,  and  many  radical  preachers,  and  which  di 
rectly  oppose  the  doctrines  her  husband  taught  and  the 
doctrines  of  the  churah  to  which  he  and  Mrs.  Packard 
belonged.  The  argument  was,  that,  of  course,  the 
woman  must  be  crazy;  and  as  she  persisted  iu  her 
liberal  sentiments,  the  superintendent  persisted  in 
considering  that  she  was  insane  1  However,  whether 
moral  blame  should  attach  to  the  superintendent  and 
trustees  of  the  insane  hospital  or  not  for  this  transac 
tion,  other  than  prejudice  and  learned  ignorance,  it  is 
quite  certain  that  the  laws,  perhaps  in  all  the  States, 
iu  relation  to  the  insane  and  their  confinement  and 
treatment,  have  been  much  abused  by  the  artful  and 
cunning,  who  have  incarcerated  their  relatives  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  hold  of  property,  or  for  differences 
of  opinion  as  to  a  future  state  of  existence  or  reli 
gious  belief. 

The  undersigned  would  further  state,  that  the  pub 
lished  account  of  Mrs.  Packard's  trial  on  the  question 
of  her  sanity  is,  no  doubt,  perfectly  reliable  and  cor 
rect  ;  that  the  judge  before  whom  she  was  tried  is  a 
man  of  learning,  ability,  and  high  standing  in  the 
judicial  circuit  in  which  he  presides;  that  Mrs.  Pack 
ard  is  a  person  of  strict  integrity  and  truthfulness, 
whose  character  is  above  reproach  ;  that  a  history  of 
her  case,  after  her  trial,  was  published  in  the  daily 
papers  of  Chicago,  and  in  the  newspapers  generally 
in  the  State,  arousing  at  the  time  a  public  feeling  of 
indignation  against  the  author  of  her  persecution,  and 
sympathy  for  her;  that  nothing  has  transpired  since 
to  overthrow  or  set  aside  this  verdict  of  popular  opin 
ion;  that  it  is  highly  probable  that  the  proceedings  iu 
this  case,  so  far  as  the  officers  of  tne  State  hospital  for 
the  insane  are  concerned,  will  undergo  a  rigid  investi 
gation  by  the  Legislature  of  this  State. 

The  undersigned  understands  that  Mrs.  Packard  does 
not  ask  pecuniary  charity,  but  that  sympathy  and  fra 
ternal  assistance  which  may  aid  her  to  obtain  and  make 
her  own  living,  she  having  been  left  by  her  husband 
without  any  means  or  property  whatever. 

All  which  is  most  fraternally  and  confidently  sub 
mitted  to  your  kind  consideration. 

WILLIAM  A.  BOARDMAN. 

WAUKEGAN,  ILLINOIS,  Dec.  3, 1864. 


NOTE  K. 

DISTRESS  IN  EUROPE— SUFFERING  IN  LONDON  AND 
FRANCE. 

THE  London  Examiner  says  of  the  distress  among 
the  poor  at  the  East  End  in  London  : 

"The  most  populous  quarter  of  the  metropolis  is 
craving  for  food,  and  Civis  UritanrdcMt  has  to  fallback 
on  public  and  private  charity  for  the  means  of  keeping 
body  and  soul  together.  It  is  deplorable  to  find  suca 
a  state  of  things  coexistent  with  and  contiguous  to  an 
accumulation  of  wealth  such  as  was  never  aggregated 
before  within  the  same  space.  A  world  of  coined  gold 
In  thebanks  and  a  world  of  skilled  labor  in  the  hovels, 
and  no  employment  for  either  the  one  or  the  other- 
Midas  and  Misery  in  perilous  proximity.  Let  us  not 
be  unjust,  however,  to  Midas.  The  gold  which  he  can 
not  use  to  profit  for  himself  he  gives  with  an  unstint 
ing  hand  to  save  his  poor  neighbors  from  starvation. 
The  mischief  is,  that  the  demands  of  poverty  rise  with 
the  supply  of  charity.  -Craving  want  pursues  willing 
wealth  as  the  shadow  follows  the  substance.  Th« 
willingness  of  wealth  teaches  want  to  crave;  and  1» 
this  lies  the  great  danger  of  the  situation.1' 

The  London  Daily  Aews  says : 

"  Every  winter  the  dry  and  rocky  bed  of  human  raise- 
ry  in  this  rich  man's  country  becomes  a  torrent  aud 
almost  an  Inundation  of  distress.  Instantly  aud  inva 
riably  society  sets  itself  to  work  in  an  irregular  and  be 
wildered  fashion  to  arrest  by  dikes  and  drains  this  d» 


186  APPENDIX. 


thousands  of  pounds  are  distributed  by  checks,  to  the  "  Compared  with  savages,  Christians  have  only  been 
great  relief  and  satisfaction  r*  the  charitable  donors,  better  in  degree.  In  the  Sandwich  Islands  cannibalism 
to  all  sorts  of  committees  am.  jsts  of  secretaries  and  used  to  be  sinful  only  when  the  victims  were  Sandwich 
collectors.  Nothing  was  ever  comparable  to  the  or-  Islanders.  An  Englishman  or  a  New-Zealauder  could 
gamzation  and  abundance  of  British  charity.  But  be  eaten  and  relished  with  impunity.  We  have  stop- 
where  does  all  the  money  go  to  ?  Still  the  cry  of  want  ped  short  of  the  eating ;  but  there  is  little  else  we  have 
nses  up,  and  the  torrent  overflows,  and  men,  and  not  deemed  excusable  when  our  victim  has  been  of  a 
women,  and  children  starve  and  are  forgotten,  and  race  or  of  a  religion  different  from  ourselves  The 
still  the  checks  are  poured  in.  Then  comes  the  ever-  doctrine  of  nationality,  misapplied  as  it  has  been  mis- 


men  of  business,  of  colossal  industry  and  enterprise,  eloquent  as  Chatham  did  in  Ins  last  great  speech  de- 

of  obscure  but  enormous  opulence,  of  arriving  at  some  pictmg  the  awful  sinfuluess  of  a  war  with  our  breth- 

tolerably  direct  and  effective  system  of  charitable  as-  ren.    When  Chatham  delivered  that  memorable  ora- 

eistance  and  relief  ?    There  is  no  other  country  in  the  tion,  our  subsidized  Indians  were  scalpiti"  our  French 

world  that  professes,  as  England  does,  to  find  bread  enemies  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  Tu  hundreds 

for  every  man  who  is  willing  to  work,  yet  leaves  him-  and  the  pitch-cap  and  triangles  were  in  the  hands  of 


men,  for  the  most  part,  and  church  or  chapel-goers,  with  men  of  the  same  race  as  ourselves,  and  the  con- 
And  among  them  all  there  has  been  one  Peabody  ;  and  science  of  England  is  shocked  at,  the  prospect  it  never 
he  is  not  an  English,  but  an  American,  philanthropist."  occurs  to  Englishmen  to  question  whether  there  was 

Returns  up  to  the  present  year  (1869)  go  to  prove  that  not  just  as  much  moral  guilt  in  rushin"  to  the  slau<*h- 
pauperism  in  England  is  on  the  increase  by  five  per  j  ter  of  Muscovites  in  the  Crimea,  and  in  blowing  rebel 
cent  annually.  The  total  number  of  paupers  in  Great  j  Sepoys  into  fragments  from  the  mouths  of  our  cannon 
Britain  being  now  over  a  million-  another  "triumph"  as  there  would  be  in  carrying  into  Charleston  harbor 
for  the  reverend  Princes  of  Exeter  Hall.  :  an  iron-clad  full  of  the  horrors  of  war 

Advices  from  various  parts  of  France  speak  of  the  !  "  What  has  this  false  idea  of  nationality  produced 
great  misery  of  the  poorer  classes.  The  Avenir  Ifa-  through  the  long  ages  during  which  it  has  been  held  ? 
uonal  says  that  the  accounts  from  the  north,  centre,  i  Need  we  travel  through  history  from  Persians  and 
and  south  are  deplorable.  The  general  disquiet  occa-  !  Greeks,  to  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  then  to  Romans 
eioned  by  the  uncertainty  of  the  government  policy,  and  Carthaginians,  and  point  to  the  blood  which  was 

s?le<J  and  *™S  sufferings  which  were  endured  in  the 


greatly  increasing;  that  the  guards  at  the  townhouse   which  has 


are  doubled,  and  a  squad  of  sergents-de-ville  stationed 
before  the  gate,  "round  which  a  famished  crowd  ga 
thers."  At  Lille,  Auxerre,  Limoges,  and  other  towns, 
the  charitable  boards  (Bureaux  cle  Bieufaisance)  have 


this  country  and  Ireland.  An  Englishman,  until  a  very 
recent  period,  has  looked  upon  an  Irishman  much  in 
the  same  way  as  a  savage  looked  upon  his  captive— as 
a  fit  subject  for  torture  and  death  ;  an  Irishman  has 


been  obliged  to  adopt  "exceptional  measures"  to  naturally  regarded  his  persecutor  as  a  victim  for  re- 
maintam  tranquillity.  In  Paris,  the  boards  of  public  |  venge.  No  matter  what  happened,  there  were  few 
relief  have  received  nearly  400,000f.  from  the  Minister  \  qualms  of  conscience  on  either  side.  Things  have 
of  the  Interior,  and  even  this  hardly  suffices.  M.  de  j  been  done  to  an  Irishman  which  done  to  an  American 
Girardin  pertinently  asks  whether  such  a  state  of  would  have  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through  the  land, 
things  is  not  a  supreme  warning  to  Europe  that  it  has  i  and  done  no  longer  since  than  the  days  of  our  grand- 


gangrene  sets  in  and  amputation  after  it,  who  but  a 
madman  would  hesitate  ?" 
In  other  countries  of  Christian  Europe  the  terrible 


has  made  nations  ;  the  enemy  of  Heaven  uses  them, 
and  will  continue  to  use  them  while  we  continue  to 
believe  that  the  commandment  to  love  our  neighbors 


details  of  poverty  and  suffering  among  the  masses  are.]  simply  means  that  we  are  to  love  those  of  the  same 
most  lamentable.  religion  and  the  same  race,  and  that  all  others  may  be 

;  hated,  and  hunted,  and  made  stepping-stones  to  what 

TJOTF  T  (- men  call  glory.    When  nations  are  only  different  that 

they  may  display  the  beauty  of  union,  no  Chatham  of 

IT  is  a  pleasure  to  find  that  the  idea  advanced  in  this  tne  future  shall  rise  in  the  British  Commons,  valk  of 
Tolnme  against  Nationality  has  already  occurred  to  tne  horrors  of  war  with  our  brethren,  and  IH-  silent 
others.  The  following  article  from  the  Northern  about  the  sin  of  slaying  those  who  are  not  of  our  race; 
Press,  as  published  in  the  London  Public  Opinion  and  no  one  sna11  enforce  the  special  duty  of  keeping 
9f  March  21st,  1808.  is  sufficiently  clear  on  that  sub-  peace  with  those  who  speak  our  language  without  be- 
Ject :  Ing  equally  earnest  in  protecting  from  destruction 

1  NATIONALITY.  those  who  adopt  a  different  tongue ;  the  world  shall  be 

one  great  nation  with  God  as  us  ruler,  and  injustice 


"Throughout  all  our  history,  an  Englishman  has 


shalfbe  injustice  wherever  perpetrated." 


FROM  NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS  AND  CORRESPONDENTS  ON  "EXETER  HALl." 


"  The  plot  and  passion  In  '  Exeter  Hall '  show  an 
experienced  hand  in  their  delineation.  We  shall 
be  happy  to  read  either  a  sermon  on  the  failure  of 
Christianity,  or  any  other  theological  nut  that  the 
author  wishes  to  erack,  or  a  pure  work  of  fiction ; 
because  'Exeter  Hall'  proves  that  the  author  has 
something  to  say,  and  knows  how  to  say  it."  —  From 
Public  Opinion,  London,  England. 

"  After  a  careful  and  candid  perusal  of  this  work, 
we  are  constrained  to  admit,  that  it  is  one  of  the 
ablest  and  most  dangerous  opponents  of  the  creed 
of  Christendom  and  the  divine  inspiration  of  the 
Scriptures  that  has  ever  been  laid  on  our  table. 
There  are,  however,  we  are  satisfied,  those  who  will 
not  be  inclined  to  stop  here,  but  who  will  assert 
boldly,  that,  for  excellence  of  conception,  strength 
of  argument,  harmonious  sequences,  sound  logic, 
keen  analysis,  profound  research,  admirable  humor, 
and,  withal,  deep  pathos,  '  Exeter  Hall '  has  no  rival 
in  its  peculiar  field." —  Watson'' s  Art  Journal,  New 
York. 

"The  author  propounds  on  the  title-page  the 
rather  comprehensive  question,  <Whi>t  is  truth?' 
He  will  scarcely  expect  us  to  say,  that  he  has  satis 
factorily  and  completely  answered  this  query;  but 
we  may  and  do  say.  that  he  has  introduced  much 
theological,  philosophical,  sensational,  and  other 
Information,  which  we  cordially  commend  to  those 
who  may  have  the  time  and  patience  to  devote  to 
his  great  and  closely  printed  work.  It  is  indeed  a 
wonderfu.  book."  —  Neu.  York  Eueniiiy  Mull. 

"So  striking  and  effective  an  exposition  of  the 
inconsistencies,  follies,  dogmatism,  puerilities,  and 
general  mischievousness  of  theology  as  this  book 
eels  forth  must  produce  a  profound  impression 
wherever  read,  and  lead  on  other  readers  innu 
merable  to  be  enlightened  and  impressed  by  its 
first  eflcct.  We  commend  it  to  the  widest  popular 


approval,  for  the  sake  of  its  singular  merits."  — 
Banner  of  Light,  Boston. 

"The  liberal  public  ought  to  give  'Exeter  Hall' 
a  very  extensive  circulation ;  for  it  well  deserves  that 
honor.  A  better  devised  book  to  secure  the  object 
in  view  —  the  development  of  the  practical  effects  of 
religious  fanaticism,  as  seen  ha  the  family  and  in 
society  —  has  not  appeared  for  many  years.  Nor  ia 
it  merely  theoretical ;  for  its  arguments  are  based 
upon  the  iron  '  logic  of  events,'  as  found  recorded  in 
the  annals  of  courts  and  prisons,  and  in  the  actuali 
ties  of  every  day  life :  therefore  it  Is  a  book  whose 
influence  cannot  fail  to  be  healthy,  because  founded 
in  truth."  —  Boston  Investigator. 

"  This  novel  is  one  of  the  most  exciting  romances 
of  the  day  in  its  peculiar  line.  It  deals  with  some  of 
the  most  startling  phases  of  religious  excitement, 
and  makes  curious  disclosures  of  the  motives  which 
oontrol  the  apostles  of  modern  fanaticism."  —  Demo- 
resVs  Magazine,  New  York. 

"  The  book  is  well  and  powerfully  written.  Our 
many  friends  will  find  'Exeter  Hall'  an  interesting 
book,  —  a  book  they  will  rejoice  to  see  put  before  the 
public,  and  one  which  will  be  useful,  as  something 
they  can  purchase  and  lend  their  friends,  whose 
orthodoxy  we  will  not  guarantee  after  they  shall 
have  digested  but  half  its  contents."  —  The  Liberal, 
Chicago. 

"  We  have  no  hesitation  In  declaring  this  a  great 
work,  —  great  in  design,  great  in  scope,  great  in 
execution.  It  names  things  in  plain  English  which 
have  too  long  been  mentioned  only  in  the  stiff  and 
formal  dialect  of  the  pulpit.  It  grasps  tenets 
and  ideas  with  a  bare  and  bold  hand,  which  hav« 
too  long  been  handled  with  sectarian  gloves.  W« 
consider  it  a  book  that  no  one  need  fear  to  read.  . .  i 
The  interest  of  the  plot  holds  the  attention  of  th« 
reader  to  the  end."—  The  Universe,  Chicago. 


"The  humane  and  charitable  tendencies  of  the 
book  must  receive  the  approbation  of  every  friend 
of  humanity ;  and  the  enlightened  and  progressive 
legislation  of  the  future  may  not  improbably  em 
body  some  of  the  author's  suggestions  in  reference 
to  the  land  monopoly  and  pauperism,  which  form 
two  of  the  most  social  evils  of  the  mother  country." 
—  Daily  Telegraph,  Toronto,  Canada. 

"  In  the  story,  the  life-like  portrayal  of  religious 
character,  and  the  truthful  illustration  of  the  mis 
chievous  tendency  of  religion,  as  well  as  the  beautiful 
picture  of  domestic  happiness  where  the  teachings 
of  Nature  had  been  substituted  for  the  dogmas  of 
theology,  cannot  fail  to  make  the  work  doubly  inter 
esting.  ...  I  wish  a  copy  of  '  Exeter  Hall '  could  be 
put  into  the  hands  of  every  intelligent  person  in  the 
United  States."  —  D.  F.  Underwood,  in  the  Investi 
gator. 

"  It  treats  on  matters  of  which  I  have  had  a  life 
long  experience;  and  the  pictures  are  all  of  them 
most  truthfully  drawn.  It  is  called  a  romance;  but 
it  is  the  romance  of  truth.  Truth  is  stranger  than 
fiction.  It  is  a  book  for  the  million;  and  it  should 
have  an  extensive  circulation."  —  La  Roy  Sunder- 
land,  in  the  Liberal. 


"  A  veritable  destroyer  is  upon  them  (the priests}; 
and  no  description  of  opposition  or  petty  manoeuv 
ring  can  stay  his  course.  His  thunderbolts  are  forged 
on  the  very  same  anvil  that  they  use  in  the  moulding 
of  their  superstitions ;  and,  in  dealing  with  them,  he 
subjects  them  to  their  own  racks  and  thuinb-s'crews. 
The  truth  is,  'Exeter  Hall'  is,  in  my  opinion,  the 
ablest  work  written  from  an  infidel  point  of  view 
since  the  days  of  Paine;  and,  as  such,  it  cannot  but 
create  Intense  commotion  and  alarm  among  the 
churches." — A  New  York  Correspondent  in  the  ^Bos 
ton  Investigator. 

"  No  book  has  ever  appeared  of  a  liberal  or  pro 
gressive  character  so  effective  and  deadly  a  foe  to 
old  theology  as  this  work,  so  deep  and  thorough  in 
its  research,  so  profound  in  its  knowledge  of  the 
sects  of  the  day,  so  biting  and  keen  in  its  sarcasm, 
and  so  beautiful  in  its  tender,  delicate,  and  pathetic 
appeals.  Its  plot  is  developed  and  wrought  up  with 
masterly  effect,  sufficient  to  gratify  the  most  sensa 
tional  appetite;  with  incidents,  founded  on  facts, 
which  must  make  the  ears  of  the  reverend  doctors  of 
divinity  tingle  when  they  hear  of  it.  The  time  has. 
fully  come  when  hard  knocks  must  be  laid  on,  thick 
and  fast,  and  with  vigor,  too,  even  to  the  destruction 
of  falsehood's  most  sacred  propagandists." — Bo»ton 
Correspondent,  Investigator. 


305  De  NevrDnVe  %°ark1nLaL!BRARY  FACILITY 

j^^S^S^ 

-^^1™^^ 


Fo. 


McDonnell  — 


2356   Exeter  Hall 


1885 


iiiii 

000025238    7 


PS 

2356 


1885 


